


Child of Heaven, Child of Earth [DISCONTINUED]

by AngelofGallifrey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Mpreg, My First Destiel Fanfic, Sabriel - Freeform, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1467217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelofGallifrey/pseuds/AngelofGallifrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A nephilim, born of Michael's vessel and a rebel angel. Michael and all of Heaven will not rest until this child is destroyed. Lucifer and all of Hell will not rest until she is one of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Abomination

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first Destiel fanfiction, so I'm a bit nervous. Anyway, onwards with the disclaimers!! =D
> 
> Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY (except for the daughter). *Sigh* Sad times. 
> 
> I CLAIM NO PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS!

"Has it arrived? Has the Abomination finally come upon us?"

"Yes. She's here."

"And Castiel?"

"Alive. Exhausted. But alive."

"Good. You understand what must be done?"

"...Yes, I do."

"And are you prepared to do it?" 

"..."

"Gabriel?"

"Calm down, Mikey-boy. Yes, I am."

"Good. Then you will go to Castiel's cell immediately and kill the child. Do you understand me?"

"...Yes. But what do I do with Castiel? You know he'll try to stop me."

"I will deal with him later. In the meantime, don't forget that you are a Trickster. I am sure you will think of something. Now go."

"Alright, alright, brother. I'm going."

***

Castiel gazed down at the tiny infant in his arms, eyes wide with incredulity, relief and love. He was exhausted, sore and sweating buckets, but despite this, all he could think about was that he had carried this child - this beautiful miracle of a child - inside him for the past nine months, and now here she was, nestled in his arms, safe, warm, alive and absolutely perfect. She was his own flesh and blood...his blood ran through her veins, and hers through his. She was so pure, so wholesome and untouched by the horrors that surrounded her, and looking down at her now, Castiel knew he would fight to the death to protect her. 

Her mop of black hair was exactly the same shade as his own, and he had already taken to stroking his fingers through it, as it was as soft and downy as the fur of a baby mouse, if still a little damp. But then there were her eyes. He gazed into them and saw not himself, but Dean. They were huge, bright and a beautiful shade of green, and completely identical to the hunter's. Looking into them, Castiel felt a twinge of pain in his heart. Dean did not even know of this child's existence...he probably never would, if the angels got to her before Castiel was strong enough to send her somewhere safe. He cringed at the thought, stopping himself before his thoughts progressed any further - no. Letting the angels get to her was not an option. He would fight tooth and claw to protect her, and he would not be defeated. He could not be defeated. 

It was then that the child let out a whimper, barely audible, and yet Castiel heard it as loudly as if she had started crying. His daughter had been silent ever since her birth - no crying as she had slipped from his body and into the harsh, cold brightness of the outside world, no squirming, no whinging. Not so much as a whimper. Castiel knew she could sense the danger she was in, and so gathering the baby close to his chest, he leant down to press the softest of kisses to her forehead, hoping he was doing the right thing in going about comforting her. This was still all so new and frightening to him. 

"Hush, little one. Don't cry. I'm here. Your father's here. I'll protect you. You're safe," he whispered, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair, his heart fluttering with the overwhelming desire to shelter her from the dangers that she would soon surely face. 

Trying to be as gentle as he possibly could, he reached out his right forefinger to tenderly brush her cheek, feeling the smooth, unblemished surface of her skin. In a reaction that seemed to be automatic, the infant instantly responded to the touch by lifting one of her tiny fists to wrap her fingers around his own, gripping so tightly that Castiel felt a lump appear in his throat. She was barely an hour old, smaller than Castiel had ever imagined she would be, and yet he could feel the strength in her grasp. She would not let go for all the world, and Castiel knew he felt the same. It was a stronger compulsion than he had ever experienced before...stronger even than his desire to protect Dean. This was a bond that would never - could never - be broken. Burying his nose into her hair, he breathed in deeply before murmuring, "I promise, little one, that I will fight for you until the day I die. I won't let them get anywhere near you."

When he pulled back to look upon her face once more, he found that she was fast asleep in his arms, her breaths soft and regular, warm against his hand which was still held in her grasp. Smiling lovingly, he ensured that she was securely cradled in his arms before leaning back against the blinding white wall of his cell. Eyes slipping closed, he exhaled slowly. He briefly considered trying to contact Dean through a dream, but he quickly rejected the idea. The angels had drained him of every ounce of his Grace when he was put in this cell. Without it he could do nothing except hope that Dean was alright, and hope that he hadn't given up on him. 

It was then that the door to his cell was unbolted. Instantly alert, Castiel's eyes flew open as he cradled the baby close to his chest, being careful not to wake her. His heart pounded as he peered at the door. They had come for her. So soon after the birth? She was so tiny, so fragile. Castiel felt fury burn in every fibre of his being. How could his brothers and sisters do this to him? How could they call this child, so small, unblemished, untouched by the world, an abomination? How could they even contemplate the idea of harming her, when she was the very living embodiment of innocence itself? 

Then the door swung open and Castiel saw Gabriel step into the room. His throat tightened a little at the sight of his brother. Of course Michael would send someone else. Was he too much of a coward to face killing an innocent child, or was he simply too lazy? Either way, Castiel felt nothing but pure hatred towards his eldest brother. In the meantime, Gabriel had been the only angel in the garrison to show any form of pity when Castiel had first been dragged back up to Heaven when the angels had learned of his pregnancy. Not Anna, not Balthazar, and especially not Michael. The revulsion Castiel had seen in his siblings' faces as they threw him into the cell had made him feel physically sick, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was one thing to be betrayed by God, a divine entity that he had never and would never see for himself, but to be betrayed by his family? It caused him too much pain to process. 

He watched in silent horror as Gabriel reached into his jacket, bringing out his silver Archangel blade. At that moment, Castiel thought it looked like pure evil. The infant would be dead before she even knew what pain was. 

It was then that Castiel realised that he had not named his daughter. 

"Hello Cas," said Gabriel, a small, sad smile upon his face.

"Gabriel," Castiel replied, trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible whilst he clutched the baby girl close to his chest. 

Gabriel paused, cocking his head to one side as he surveyed the infant in the other angel's arms. 

"She is a beautiful child. Come up with any names yet?"

"Go to hell, you little bastard." The snarl ripped out of Castiel before he even knew what he was saying.

"Ooh, Cas. A little harsh, don't you think? No, I'm going to be staying well away from there." He paused before going on. "You know why I'm here?"

"Yes."

"And are you going to let me do my job?"

"Not unless you kill me first."

"I don't want to do that, Cas. Besides, Michael wants to have you all to himself. He just sent me for the child."

"I won't let you touch her."

"I have to do this, Cas. It's for her sake as well as ours. You know as well as I do that she would never be able to lead the normal life you want for her. She'd be constantly running, never stopping, fighting off Heaven's warriors one day, and then Hell's the next. Yes, Hell wants her too, Cas. She's more powerful than you could ever imagine...more powerful than you or me, or even Michael...perhaps even more powerful Lucifer. She is wanted by Heaven, Hell and everything in between. Don't you think it'd be kinder to just get it over and done with?" 

"Go. To. Hell," spat Castiel into Gabriel's face, although deep down he knew his brother's words rang true. 

Sighing, Gabriel moved forward to kneel before the other angel, and before Castiel could even attempt to do anything to hinder him, he found himself pinned against the wall, helpless and unable to resist. He struggled wildly against his brother's power, but it was useless. Without his Grace he was nothing. He almost cried with frustration as the archangel reached out towards the child in his arms, and then he was cradling her in his own. She opened her eyes in surprise at the change of location, before beginning to wail loudly. It was the first time she had cried, and it broke Castiel's heart. However, Gabriel was not deterred. The Archangel blade clutched in one hand, the man said softly, "Oh hey, hey, little one. Don't you start crying. It's only your Uncle Gabe. I'm not going to hurt you." 

Castiel balked at the blatant lie, and struggled all the more ferociously against his invisible bonds because of it. However, despite everything, Gabriel easily held him in place. Then his brother did something he did not expect.

He dropped the Archangel blade. 

"What are you...?" Castiel's query was cut off when he saw Gabriel placing two fingers upon his daughter's forehead carefully, before she disappeared. Just like that. 

Then, with a look of earnest seriousness upon his face, Gabriel turned to face him and said, "She's safe. Now you have to listen to everything I tell you because otherwise Michael is going to come in here, kill you and then go searching for that baby anyway. So you listen to me, and you do as I say, and we may both escape this nightmare with our heads still attached to our necks, OK?"

***

"So, what do you think about this one? In Seattle last week a couple woke up hanging from the ceiling by their feet, surrounded by, and I quote: 'the remains of what looked like their dog mixed together with [the guy's] grandma'."

"Sounds just peachy. Early start?" 

"As always."

"Nice."

Dean chucked back the last few dregs of beer at the bottom of the can before getting to his feet, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Well, I'm going to hit the sack. Don't stay up all night watching porn," he said winking at his brother before turning and making his way through the bunker towards his room.

"Jerk," he heard Sam call over his shoulder.

"Bitch," he replied automatically, smiling sadly at the familiarity of the exchange. Right now he really needed some familiarity.

It was then that he heard it. Soft at first, but gradually increasing in volume until there was no other destination that it could be coming from. 

It was the weak, shrill cry of a baby...coming from his bedroom. Frowning with confusion, Dean slowly pulled his revolver out of the inside of his jacket before slowly reaching out to pull the door to his bedroom open. Peering through the crack, he slowly opened the door, warily stepping into the room. However, when he saw the infant lying upon his bed, naked, still slightly gunky and screaming like a banshee, he pocketed the weapon and hurried forward to lift the baby into his arms. His astonishment was pushed to the back of his mind as he held the child carefully in his arms. 

"Hello there, little one. Where did you come from?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired to write this chapter by the song 'You'll be in my heart' by Phil Collins, as I feel it fits Cas and his daughter's relationship perfectly. :'( *Cries over non-canonical feels* So anyway...yeah. What do you think? Should I continue with this? Feel free to leave a comment and/or kudos. =) Thanks!


	2. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, new chapter! =D I'm really enjoying writing this! I'm quite pleased with this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL! NONE OF THE CHARACTERS FEATURING IN THIS STORY ARE MINE (except for the baby).
> 
> I CLAIM NO PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS!

"So...she just appeared? On your bed? A newborn baby that was still partially attached to its umbilical cord suddenly appeared on your bed?"

"Yes, Sam, that is the gist of it."

The two brothers were sitting at the table in the bunker, the baby, now clean and wrapped in a towel, lying fast asleep in Dean's arms. She had quieted down rather quickly after Dean had held her for a few minutes, much to the hunter's surprise, but definitely not to his chagrin. Her face was pressed close to his chest, her breathing soft and regular, and Dean, despite his natural hard exterior, felt his heart melt slightly at the sight. The adoring look he was giving the infant did not escape Sam's notice, and he could not help a small grin touching the corners of his mouth. 

"You know, you're surprisingly good with children."

"I know, right? I'm like the Dr Doolittle of babies," smirked Dean, his face smug. 

Shaking his head in amusement, Sam said, "Don't you think we should give her a once-over, though? Just to be sure?"

"What, make sure she's not possessed? Seriously, Sam? I mean, I know demons aren't exactly the epitome of intelligence, but they're not stupid enough to possess a baby, especially when we're around. Anyway...she's clean. I did the whole song and dance before bringing her here. Holy water, salt, the lot."

Pausing, Sam eventually nodded, satisfied. "So, if she's not a demon, then who is she? And how did she get in your room?"

"I don't know, but until we know for sure...we can't just leave her to die, so...how d'you fancy being a daddy, Sammy?" 

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, seriously? The kid hates me. She screamed her lungs out when I tried to hold her."

"Yeah, well...she'll just have to get used to you," Dean replied, looking down at the child in his arms with that same blind adoration on his face. He was brought sharply out of his reverie when Sam let out a chuckle. "What?"

"You. Her. The whole daddy thing. I just never expected it from you," Sam smirked, and Dean glared at him before looking back down at the infant.

"Don't listen to him, baby. I'm the best daddy in the world, right? Yeah I am, and you know it," he cooed, reaching out to stroke his hands gently through the soft, dark hair on the baby's head.

"Well look at you, Dean. I never saw you as a father figure."

Both men jumped at the voice, Dean instinctively clutching the child to his chest protectively. The sudden movement immediately woke the baby, and she started to wail loudly.

"Oh come now, little one. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Crowley," snarled Dean.

The demon smiled, cocking his head to one side and lifting his hand to wave. "Hello boys. Guess who's back."

***

"What do you mean they're gone? HOW CAN THEY BE GONE?"

"I don't know! They're just gone - all of them. Castiel, Gabriel and the Nephilim."

"Gabriel...DAMN IT! I should never have sent him...I should have known of his complicity! How could you have let them escape, you imbecile?"

"I - I am sorry, Michael...I did not know..."

Samandriel was cut off abruptly when Michael grabbed him by the shirt and threw him against the wall, his eyes blazing with a fury that made the younger angel's knees go weak.

"SORRY? Sorry is not good enough, Samandriel. Now a Nephilim, the Abomination of Heaven, is loose on Earth with two rebel angels - Castiel and Gabriel, no less! Do you have any idea of the chaos you have unleashed upon the world, you fool?" Michael snarled, his face close to Samandriel's, hell-fire burning in his eyes.

"I - I am sorry...I was a fool and I should have stayed with Gabriel...please Michael, please forgive me..."

With a noise of disgust, Michael dropped the younger angel before disappearing, the sound of his wings filling the enclosed space. Samandriel watched him leave, eyes wide with terror before burying his face in his hands. God, he was screwed.

***

"Where are we going?"

"The Garden. Joshua will help us."

"Gabriel...why are you helping us?"

"Because I don't believe in the same shit our brothers do...and I think Michael is a dickhead who needs to get his head out of his ass and start moving with the times," said Gabriel, pausing to look back at his brother with a smirk on his face, which Castiel hesitantly returned before his face contorted with pain and he paused, dropping to his knees.

"Cas? You OK, brother?"

"Yes...I am fine, just a little sore," Castiel replied, flushing a little red at the confession.

Gabriel gave him a sympathetic smile before helping him to his feet. "I don't envy you, you know. Are you OK to go on?"

Glaring at him, Castiel pushed past, ignoring the pain, and saying, "Come on. Michael will have been informed of our disappearance by now."

Grinning mischievously, Gabriel smirked, "Of course, brother dear," before clapping the other angel on the back and hurrying past him.

***

"Can I hold her?"

"What are you doing here, Crowley?"

"I'm just here to congratulate the new father, and to say hello to the little bundle of joy," said Crowley with a grin, glancing down at the screaming infant in Dean's arms.

"Stay away from her," Dean growled, taking the Demon blade from his pocket and pointing it straight at the demon. 

"Wow, so protective so quickly. It must be true what they say...natural paternal bond and all that. Really quite fascinating."

"Did you put the baby in Dean's room?" asked Sam quickly, immediately sensing that Crowley was toying with them.

"No, what do you take me for? I mean, I'm a bastard at the best of times, but I don't go kidnapping newborn babies. You wound me, Moose."

"But you know who did put her there, don't you?" 

"Of course I know. I'm the King of Hell. I know everything. Well, everything that matters, that is."

There was an expectant pause, filled only by the clinking of glass against glass as Crowley went to fetch himself some scotch from their drinks cabinet. 

"Well?" asked Dean, glaring at the demon.

Looking up, Crowley stared at them for a moment before shaking his head and saying, "What?"

"How did she get here? Who sent her here?"

Crowley laughed at this - mocking, harsh and highly irritating, and Dean's fingers tightened around the hilt of the Demon blade at the sound. "You really don't know? Have you even looked at the child? Look at her, Dean. Look at her face, her eyes, her hair...who does she look like?"

Staring at the man in confusion, Dean reluctantly obeyed, looking down at the infant in his arms, who was still grizzling slightly, but had mercifully stopped her screaming. Upon seeing the man looking down at him, the child, with an intelligence that Dean was sure should not be possible for an infant of her age (Christ, she couldn't have been more than a few hours old), turned her green eyes upon him, wide with curiosity and innocence. He touched her hair, dark and downy as that of a baby owl, and he thought he felt a twinge of recognition at the sight. He could almost swear that it was...no. That was impossible.

"Look at her, Dean. Really look. Who's her daddy? Or rather...who are her daddies?" 

Then the infant yawned, scrunching up her nose in a way that was so familiar that Dean's heart ached...

Then it clicked.

And the revelation nearly made him drop the child, his arms were shaking so much. Instead he stumbled and would have fallen to his knees if Sam hadn't rushed over to support him. 

"And the penny drops," smirked Crowley, taking a sip of his scotch. 

But all Dean could hear was the blood pounding in his ears, and all he could see was the child lying in his arms. 

"Dean, what's he talking about?"

Dean paused, mouth slightly agape, before looking up at his brother and saying in a hoarse, broken whisper, "Cas."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? I love hearing your feedback, so please leave a comment and/or kudos if you have the time! Thanks!


	3. Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update! Revision is a bitch. :/ Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL, NOR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY (except for the baby).
> 
> I CLAIM NO PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS!

As soon as he entered the Garden, Castiel knew something was wrong. Tightening his grip around the silver hilt of his Angel blade, he glanced around him, his skin crawling. He couldn't help but feel like they were being watched, and the thought made him nervous. This wasn't right. This was the Garden, the centre of all purity and holiness - the first part of Heaven created by God's own fair hands...not that he had anything to do with much these days.

He tried to put the sensation down to the hormones running haywire in his body, but this thought only succeeded in making him think of his daughter. He had already asked Gabriel countless times where he had sent her, but all the archangel was willing to say was, "Somewhere safe. Don't worry, Cas. She's with people who will look after her."

And it was that that frightened Castiel. The thought of his daughter, his own flesh and blood, living with people she may eventually grow up with, thinking of them as her parents, and not him, listening to their bedtime stories and kissing them goodnight as they tucked her into bed. That was the thought that tormented him more than anything else. He hoped and prayed to the Lord that this plan of Gabriel's worked, because if not, then his daughter would be in even more danger than she already was. Without Castiel there to protect her, who would?

She wouldn't even get to meet Dean.

However, before this thought had a chance to really sink in, his silent musings were abruptly cut off by Gabriel's hand on his chest, stopping him in his tracks. His brother stood before him, the Archangel blade grasped in his right hand, his grip so tight that his knuckles had turned white, his eyes scanning the surrounding undergrowth. 

"Do you feel it?" he asked, his voice little more than a growling murmur.

So it wasn't just the hormones then. Castiel nodded. "The air is tainted...but with what - I cannot tell."

"Stay on your guard. Joshua should be around here somewhere. And keep the Angel blade out. If his views on you getting knocked up by a Winchester are as shitty as Michael's, then you're going to need it."

***

For a long time, Dean could not even bring himself to put the baby down. He wouldn't even let Sam hold her, and as for Crowley...he wouldn't let him get within a five metre radius of her. Eventually, Sam had left him alone so he could interrogate the demon whilst Dean just cradled the child in his arms, eyes wide with awe as the tiny person gazed straight back up at him, her eyes identical to his. He stroked his fingers through her hair, marvelling in its softness and its similarity to Castiel's. 

Castiel. Cas. His angel. His angel had had a baby. Shit. Castiel had never told him angels could have children...let alone angels in male vessels. He would have used protection if he had known! The thought of Castiel carrying his child for the past nine months, without even thinking to drop him a line - Jesus Christ. He had thought the angel was dead. And now he was holding their daughter in his arms, and the angel hadn't even had the decency to show his face. Fuck...Dean didn't even know how the birth had even been performed...last time he checked, Castiel's genitalia had been decidedly male. And if it had been a birth like Dean was fearing it had been, then how was he now? Had he been...damaged by the process in any way? 

And where in the name of Satan's balls was he now? For all Dean knew, he could be rotting in a cell in Heaven, or lying strung up in a torture chamber in Hell. His throat tightened at the thought, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. No. Castiel was an idiot sometimes, but that wasn't to say that he was stupid. He wouldn't have got himself caught by Heaven or Hell. But then again, he thought, how else could he explain the angel's sudden disappearance nine months ago, or the continued silence ever since? And where was he that it was so dangerous that he had to send his daughter to Dean?

Sighing, Dean looked back down at the baby girl in his arms. "Where's your daddy, eh? Where did you come from?" he breathed, smiling as he reached out to stroke her cheek tenderly.

The infant just stared up at her father, eyes wide and curious, before scrunching up her face and beginning to wail.

***

It was not long before the distinct wrongness of the situation began to get to Castiel. He felt increasingly nauseous, and every step forward made his stomach jolt, threatening to send his last meal up his throat and onto Gabriel's shoes...and something told him that his brother would be rather displeased with this development. However, upon looking up at the archangel, he could detect no change in his demeanour, although he did appear to sense Castiel's discomfort. Looking around at the other angel, he cocked his head to one side, a small smile on his face.

"Sore, Cas?" he asked, the amusement in his voice tangible.

Castiel shook his head wordlessly, instantly regretting the action when it sent his brain into a sickening, dizzying spiral, and feeling his stomach give a lurch, he abruptly turned away before retching into the undergrowth, unable to cough up anything but bile that burned his throat and caused tears of exertion to form in his eyes. He felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and tried to shrug it off.

"Cas? Bro? Is this another side effect I should know about?"

Castiel shook his head again, trying to straighten himself, ashamed at this display of weakness, but unable to do anything to stop it. The thick air crowded him, suffocated him, sickened him, and he felt even worse the more he tried to pull himself together.

"This is no side effect...it is the Garden...it is like a great, festering wound...there is something terribly wrong here."

"You're telling me. I can sense it too. But this isn't right, Cas. You're a bloody angel; you shouldn't be throwing up your guts into the bushes."

"I - I agree...wait a moment..."

There was a pause as Castiel slowly began to manoeuvre himself up into a standing position, although the movement very nearly sent him back onto his knees. Wiping his mouth with a trembling hand, he looked up into Gabriel's eyes and quickly jerked his head in a nod, trying hard not to aggravate any more unsavoury reactions.

"Go. I'm fine. Keep going," he said stubbornly, although he was as white as a sheet.

Frowning, Gabriel hesitated before nodding brusquely and turning to carry on forwards. With a deep breath to prepare himself, Castiel followed, unable to do anything about his condition other than quashing the feeling as best he could. 

***

"They are advancing towards the the centre of the Garden, Michael. Should I intercept them?"

"No, Anna. Joshua is a trusted member of our battalion. He knows his orders. He will not betray us."

"You thought you could trust Samandriel to carry out his orders."

"Samandriel is a gullible boy. A child, in comparison to Joshua."

"But still..."

"You worry too much, Anna. Just wait for my signal, and then move in. We cannot allow the Nephilim or the two rebels to escape. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Michael."

***

"Joshua."

The other angel was completely still, facing away from Gabriel and Castiel, his head lowered. He seemed to be examining his hands, raising them above his head, watching the light pass between his fingers, turning them from side to side. Cocking his head to one side, Castiel was about to step forward, when Gabriel stopped him again with a hand on his chest and a warning look. Once again, the archangel called out, "Joshua. Bro. We need your help."

"Castiel. Gabriel. Why have you come to me?"

There was something about Joshua's voice made Castiel shudder. Something dark and broken...it sounded like sickness itself. It was hoarse and rasping, like the other angel had been screaming. The thought unsettled Castiel. What occasion could possibly arise at which Joshua had to scream until his voice broke? Swallowing, he pushed past Gabriel's arm and said softly, "We have come to ask a favour of you, Joshua."

It was then that the Gardener turned to face them, and Castiel felt cold. He understood. And it was far worse than he could ever have imagined. The sickness he felt was not from the Garden itself...but the Gardener at its centre.

Cocking his head to one side in a mockery of Castiel's earlier action, a deeply sorrowful expression contorted Joshua's face as he croaked, "The Nephilim is come, and God is angry, Castiel. He is so, so angry...and only I can hear Him. Do you know what that feels like, Castiel? Do you know what it feels like to have the Creator of All Things, the Divine Master, the Holy Father, bellowing expletives into your ear, into your mind, into your heart, until it drowns out your very soul? I am sorry, brother, but I have no other choice. Both Host and Abomination must be disposed of."

The last thing Castiel remembered before everything went black was the sight of two angels grabbing Gabriel and pulling him to the ground, and Balthazar's fist colliding with his temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? Did you enjoy it? I'm so mean to Cas...but Cas!whump is a favourite of mine. :3 Please feel free to leave a comment and/or kudos if you have the time! I love hearing your feedback!


	4. Cries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! I'm a bit happier with this one...and I am far too mean to Cas. =( Anyway, hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL! I OWN NONE OF THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY (except for the baby and Nariel).
> 
> I CLAIM NO PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS!

"How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"Please elaborate, Moose."

"The baby. How do we know she really is Dean and Cas' kid?" 

"You've seen the child. She's practically a mini replica of Dean's angel boy-toy, but with those great big green Winchester eyes for good measure. You only have to look at her to know what's what."

"Then how did you know about her birth? Dean didn't even know Cas was...pregnant. And yet you seem to know everything there is to know about her."

"Oh Moose, everyone in Heaven and Hell knows about this child."

"What? Why?"

"Well, where to begin? Oh yes, she's a Nephilim, possibly making her one of the most powerful beings alive in Heaven, Hell or on Earth, and to top it all off, her parents happen to be a rebel angel and Michael's bloody vessel, so I think it's safe to say that she is a popular source of conversation at the moment."

"And what do you want with her? To take her back to Hell with you? Because you know that's not going to happen, right?"

"Oh Moose, Moose, Moose. Either you're deaf or you really are the thickest person I have ever had the misfortune to meet. I've told you why I'm here. I just wanted to congratulate Dean on the happy occasion." Crowley smirked, and Sam felt his skin crawl. 

"But that's not the only reason."

Wordlessly, Crowley looked down at the glass in his hand, swirling the liquid around the bottom before lifting it to his lips and taking a sip. There was such mockery in the action that Sam had to squeeze his fists tightly in order to stop himself from beating the smug expression from the demon's face. Crowley laughed at the movement before downing the rest of the scotch, placing the glass down and turning to face the hunter.

"You don't seem to realise, Sammy, that there are times when I can be sincere," he murmured, tilting his head to one side. 

"Now, why don't I believe you?" Sam asked, glaring at the other man. 

Crowley chuckled, turning away and walking a few paces forward before turning on his heel to face Sam again. 

"I don't want anything to do with the Nephilim. As far as I'm concerned, she's just another mouth to feed (and by the way, good luck to you on that one). At least, it's not me who wants her."

He paused, and Sam swallowed nervously. "But someone else does."

"Indeed. Gold star. Full marks. But the question is, my dear Moose, who?" Crowley asked with a wry smile. "The answer is, everyone in Heaven, Hell and even Purgatory wants that adorable little munchkin out there. And believe me, Sam, Michael and Lucifer will be champing at the bit to get to her first."

"Michael and Lucifer. Michael and Lucifer both want Dean and Cas' baby?" 

"You got it, Moose."

"But Lucifer's still in the Cage."

"Correct."

"So...he isn't a threat...right? I threw him back into the Cage. I locked him in. I was under the impression that it would be a permanent arrangement."

"That's what he wants you to think. Yes, he's in the Cage. But he has assistance. He has connections. He's Satan, Sam."

"But I thought you could only open the Cage by breaking the Seals..."

"There are ways, Sam. Lucifer is old. One of the oldest. He knows a few tricks. I wouldn't be surprised if he had learned a thing or two during his walk on the wild side a few years ago. Yes, it will take time, but one day he will break out again, and the first thing he's going to be going for is the child."

"Then we have to stop him. We can't let Lucifer get out again."

"Ooh, sorry Sam, but I don't think you or Dean have much of a choice in the matter. Lucifer's coming back. I don't particularly want him to either, so don't look at me like that. I'm not on his side. Believe it or not, I'm actually on yours. I don't normally go around killing angel-human babies. Isn't really my style, you see."

Glowering at him, Sam paced for a moment in thought before saying, "You don't seem particularly concerned by it all. Last time Lucifer was ready to bust out you were begging us to put a bullet in his brain."

"But this time he isn't going to destroy mankind. Well...it won't take him long before he starts all that buggery up again, but for now his sole aim is to find this child, take her for himself and utilise this great power she has."

"Power?"

"Again with the deafness, Moose. Maybe you should get your ears checked out. Yes, power, you imbecile. She's a bloody Nephilim; and an important one, at that. I wouldn't be surprised if she sprouted wings and started smiting demons left, right and centre in a couple of years' time."

Sam sighed, turning away from the demon for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Crowley watched him for a moment before saying, "If you still don't understand, then allow me to elaborate. Heaven and Hell want her for different things. If Lucifer captures her then Hell gets to wield that immense power she has. And then there's Heaven, who just wants to destroy her. Do you know what they call her up there? The Abomination of Heaven. She is a dirty blot on the perfect white canvas of God's world, or whatever the bollocks they like to prattle on about. Don't underestimate Heaven in comparison to Hell...they won't hesitate to tear her limb from limb."

"Dean and I won't let them."

"I'm sure you won't. Or at least, you'll try your best. Believe me, Heaven won't rest until that kid is dead, and Hell won't rest until she's under their control. You and Dean have some pretty serious shit you're going up against."

"We'll deal with it. No-one's hurting that baby."

Crowley shrugged, once again strolling round to the drink's cabinet to pour himself another half-glass of scotch. Sam watched him intensely, determined never to let the demon out of his sight for so much as a millisecond, because in the space of that time he could have disappeared. However, he wouldn't have known if the demon had disappeared or not, because at that moment, the lights went out.

***

Slowly unfurling himself from around the now softly grizzling infant, Dean held her close to her chest and he got to his feet, starting to stumble forward in the general direction of the fuse box. 

"Son of a bitch," he grunted as he found himself walking into the corner of the table, tripping over the chair and nearly dropping the child. "Baby, if that was you, then it wasn't funny. Now daddy has to find the fucking light switch..."

"Dean?"

"Sam! Where's Crowley? Did he do this?"

"For your information, Dean, no I did not," came the snide drawl of Crowley's voice. 

A second later, there was the sound of a switch being flicked, and light suddenly flooded the room. Squinting at the sudden brightness, Dean turned to see Crowley standing beside the box, smiling shrewdly at him. With a glare, Dean looked away towards Sam, who was standing just by the entrance to the corridor leading to their rooms. 

"Was that the baby?" Sam asked, staring down at the infant cradled protectively in Dean's arms.

"I think so. If it wasn't Crowley, then...yes."

"Crap. If she can do that when she's about nine hours old..."

"Then what will she be able to do when she's older and uglier?" Crowley butted in, earning himself a glare from Dean. Grinning at the reaction, he gave a shrug and sauntered leisurely over towards them. "Well, boys, it's been lovely catching up, but the King of Hell has a busy schedule. I'll be sure to pop over sometime in the near future to check up on the little tyke, see how she's doing."

"That really won't be necessary, but thanks for the kind offer," snapped Dean, relieved that the demon was finally going to leave them in peace.

"Did I just detect a hint of sarcasm there, Dean? Remember, it's the lowest form of wit...and no, it isn't the highest form of entertainment, before you say it."

"Pretentious little shit," Dean growled, just loud enough for the demon to hear.

"See you soon, Sam. We'll keep in touch, I'm sure," Crowley said to the other brother, completely ignoring Dean's remark. 

And with that, he vanished. 

***

He's warm, and yet he's cold at the same time. He feels numb, and yet every fibre of his being screams with agony. He cannot speak, and yet he can hear his own screams of pain as nails are torn from his fingers one by one, fingers are snapped one after the other, kneecaps are broken, eyes are gouged out. Thin trains of blood course down his cheeks, like macabre imitations of the tears that once fell there instead. His breath comes in short, sharp gasps, because too deep a breath causes pain to constrict his chest - he suspects most of his ribs are broken, and because of the shortness of breath, he presumes that he has a collapsed lung too. When the dagger digs into his skin, tearing out great hunks of dripping flesh, all he can recognise is pain, and the voice of Michael in his brain repeating the same question over and over again: "Where is it?" 

But each time they ask him, he refuses to answer, because he doesn't fucking know, and also because he wouldn't tell them even if he did. He wonders if Gabriel is suffering the same torment as him. Probably. Or maybe he is forced to watch as they cut him to pieces before healing him, only to hack him to pieces again. He barely has time to breathe before yet another horror is thrown his way. He wonders if his older brother thinks of the Winchesters too. 

"Tell me, Castiel. Where is it? Where have you hidden the Nephilim?"

He opens his mouth to try and speak, but the blood is clogging his throat, and the only sounds he can make are awful gurgling noises. He tries to tell the voice that he does not know, but he knows it won't believe him, and even if it does, then that will put Gabriel in even more danger because of him, and he doesn't know if he can cope with that. 

A hand grips his shoulder and he feels Grace sliding through him, caressing the damaged parts of him, stitching skin, sinew and muscle back together and repairing shattered bones, and yet he groans in disgust at the sensation. They have allowed him relief quickly this time. That is a change. He cannot struggle, for the angels still have not returned his Grace to him. All he can do is watch in growing horror as he sees the angel before him unzip his fly. He swallows as terror surges through him. He cries out to the angel, "Why are you doing this?" 

There is no answer, so he tries a different tactic. "God would not want this. Stop, before He sees you for what you are and casts you into the Pit as He did with Lucifer!"

"Save your pretty words, Castiel. Where is the Nephilim? Tell us, and I may tell Nariel to spare your dignity."

"What did you do to Joshua?"

His angel gaoler strikes him hard, and, in his weakened state, he can do nothing to stop him. He is thrown to one side, although the chains keeping him upright tug him back, biting into his flesh. In response to this attack, he spits a large globule of saliva veined with blood at the angel's face, fury burning in his heart and soul like a blazing fire. There is a momentary silence as the angel (he does not know his name) wipes the offending substance from his face with a look of revulsion.

Michael seems to pause in thought before saying, "...So be it. Nariel, he's all yours."

And he does not make a sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Like I said...I'm mean to Cas. Feel free to leave a comment and/or kudos if you have the time! Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!


	5. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to come! I'm very busy at the moment. :/ But I had a sudden burst of inspiration today, and here we are! =D I hope you like it...I'm quite pleased with it! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL! NONE OF THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY ARE MY OWN (except for Nariel and the baby).
> 
> I CLAIM NO PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS!

"Michael. Please. Let him go."

"Oh do shut up, Gabriel. You know as well as I that that is not going to happen."

"Look at him, Michael. This is his kid you are asking him to give up. His own flesh and blood. Do you really think he's going to give in? He's exhausted and scared. Show some compassion."

"Compassion? Honestly, Gabriel. You really have gone soft during your time with the apes."

"You know, bro, I can't see how this is anything to do with God's will."

"Castiel lay with a human and bore a nephilim. He cannot be permitted to go unpunished. Besides, we need to find out the location of the child, or all is lost."

"You're a dickhead, you know that?"

"Call me what you will, Gabriel. I am a good son, and I will do what the Lord our God wants."

"And you think He wants you to torture one of His own sons just because he fell in love with the wrong person? Nice, bro. Real nice. You want to know what I think? I think you couldn't give a rat's ass about what our Father thinks. You're torturing Cas because you're too fucking scared to acknowledge the fact that he was powerful enough to give birth to a fucking nephilim!"

He was cut off suddenly by an Archangel blade pressed to the skin of his throat. A slow smile spreading across his face, Gabriel knew immediately that it was Anna. He also knew that he had no chance of escaping. She was well trained. The sharpness of the blade dug into the fragile skin, right against his jugular. The slightest flick of the wrist and he would be lost.

"Shut it, blasphemer, or I'll gut you like a pig," she growled into his ear, her warm breath making Gabriel shiver involuntarily.

Closing his eyes, he quelled the rising feeling of betrayal and fury before murmuring, "Let go of me, Anna."

"If you question God's will again, I will throw you in with Castiel to keep him company, seeing as you are so concerned for his wellbeing," the angel snarled, her knuckles tightening around the silver hilt of the blade.

"Sis, you're going to have to do more than that to scare me," Gabriel hissed, his voice strained and harsh. He squeezed his eyes in pain when Anna grabbed his hair, jerking his head back and exposing his throat. He could feel the pure, uncontained fury and hatred in her touch, taste it in the air, feel it in the rigidity of her body as she dug the blade into his skin, drawing a single drop of blood and releasing a tiny coil of white-blue grace.

"Anna, enough," Michael said, the authority clear in his tone.

Hesitating, Anna waited a moment before pressing the blade close once more (to make a point of course, Gabriel thought) and stepping back.

"I came to make my report, Michael," she said, her tone businesslike once more.

"Then make it. How is Joshua doing?"

"He is still not recovering. We fear the power Castiel unleashed may have done him more damage than we initially thought."

Concern, true and yet so out of place, crossed Michael's face. "He still hears the shouts?"

"Louder than ever before. I fear such a blast may have been too much for him."

A thoughtful look upon his face, Michael said, "I shall go to him in a moment. I just need to oversee this final stage in the interrogation before Balthazar takes my place. Go back to him for now."

Nodding, Anna shot Gabriel a final pointed look, to which Gabriel responded with an overly courteous smile and a mocking little wave, before turning on her heel and stalking from the room, her head held high and her red hair bouncing about her shoulders. As soon as she had left, Gabriel turned back to face Michael, his face grave once again as he said, "I'll be on my way then."

"Where do you think you're going, little brother?" Michael asked, cocking his head to one side with a small smile of amusement which made something churn angrily in Gabriel's gut.

"Outside. I need to think."

"Sorry brother, but I am afraid I cannot allow you to go anywhere at present."

"Then have someone accompany me. I don't fucking care. I just need to get out of here. I am not going to watch you torture our brother because you're just too stupid to take your head out of your ass and realise that nobody cares about the nephilim anymore."

"And you don't seem to realise how stupid that single statement makes you sound. Why do you think I am torturing him? Why I am allowing his gaoler to rape him? He is my brother as well as yours. It pains me to have to hurt him. But it is necessary, because if Hell gets their hands on that child then they will use her to release Lucifer once again. Spilling the blood of a nephilim upon the Cage is part of a ritual to open it once again. Do you understand me? That, Gabriel, is why I fight so hard to discover her whereabouts. The risk is too great. If Lucifer is released again, then no-one, not even I, will be able to put him back in the Cage. Do you see, brother?"

Gabriel stared at the archangel in astonishment. Now this - this was something he had not expected.

"Lucifer will use Cas's kid to get out of the Cage?"

"We call her the Abomination of Heaven, Gabriel. How else do you think a child that small and unblemished could earn such a title? She has power that none of us, not even Lucifer, can comprehend. She is dangerous to us and all those who believe in the freedom of Heaven and Earth. Hell will usurp and utilise that power for their own devices, and once Lucifer is free, with a nephilim of such colossal power on his side...the horrors they would unleash..."

"And you never thought to tell me this because?"

"Oh, don't take it personally, brother. There are very few who know about the nephilim's true use. I doubt even the demons themselves know about it."

Gabriel glared at him for a long moment before the moment was shattered by the screams resuming in the adjacent room. The room which the archangel knew contained Castiel. Face suddenly contorting in rage and disgust, Gabriel whipped around and stormed from the room, ignoring Michael's shouts from behind him.

He would get Castiel out of Heaven, if it was the last thing he did.

***

He will not tell Michael. He cannot tell Michael. So each time Nariel (he knows his gaoler's name now) conjures up some new horror for him, he resists with every fibre of his being. If he tells the archangel where she is, she will die. He tries to tell him that he does not know where, but he does not believe him and Nariel strikes him again and again, threatening to kill everyone he loves if he does not divulge the required information. Death. So much death. And he, Castiel, is the cause of it all.

But even so, despite the fact that he knows with every refusal he is condemning himself to a life of terror and imprisonment and a slow, painful death, he still does not tell him.

So instead he prays to Dean, begging his forgiveness, telling him how much he loves him and hoping against hope that the angels do not discover his whereabouts. He knows that if they do, he will be subjected to the same horror as him. And he prays to his daughter, so tiny and new to the world and yet hated by so many, even though she has done no harm to anyone. He wants to hold her and sing her to sleep and kiss her goodnight. He is afraid of what they will do to her if they find her.

He cannot tell Michael.

For their sake.

***

"Have you even named her yet?"

Dean looked up from the sleeping infant in his arms. He had only just managed to calm her down after a particularly intense screaming fit which Dean was pretty certain had cut the power supply of the entire vicinity for at least five minutes, and he was revelling in the subsequent peace and temporary silence. Staring at his brother in surprise, Dean realised that Sam had a point. His daughter still didn't have a name. The thought had not even crossed his mind. Actually...that was a lie. The thought had crossed his mind once, but he had pushed it aside because he didn't want to think about naming his daughter without Castiel's input. The thought made an all-too-familiar pang of loss clench his heart, and it took a moment before he was able to pull himself together and look up at Sam. Castiel was gone for now. He may not show his face for many years yet, and Dean could not just wait all that time, holding onto nothing but the faith that the angel would return someday.

"No."

"...Well...are you going to?"

"Yes."

There was a pause, filled only by Sam's amused little cough and a smile as he watched Dean's face.

"So...what's it going to be?"

Dean paused for a moment. The truth was...he really did not know. This was a huge responsibility. A child's name could do so much for them in the future. It could make them or break them. He was unsure he was ready for such a responsibility. His turmoil must have shown on his face because when he looked back up at Sam he saw that his brother was barely containing his laughter.

"Er...could you give me some ideas?" Dean asked hesitantly, hating that he had to rely on his younger brother to help him name his own baby.

Grinning, Sam thought for a moment before offering, "Elizabeth?"

Dean grimaced and shook his head. "Too formal."

"Er...Daisy?"

Dean paused before shaking his head. "Too innocent. She's got to have a name that demons will take seriously before she smites their brains out."

"Right. OK..."

This continued for a while before Sam paused, causing Dean to look at him. "What?"

"What about...Mary?"

Dean's eyebrows lifted and he suddenly found a lump stuck in his throat which was impossible to remove. He stared at his brother for a moment before lowering his head and gazing down at the baby girl in his arms. She didn't look anything like his mother...her hair was too dark. He paused before looking back up at Sam and saying hoarsely, "Maybe her middle name. But not her first name. I couldn't...I couldn't do that."

Sam nodded, his expression understanding, and Dean knew he was choking up too. Looking back down at the baby in his arms, Dean reached out to gently stroke the smooth skin of her cheek, smiling sadly when she subconsciously leaned into the touch, puffs of her warm breath playing against his hand. He thought about how much she resembled Castiel. Her hair, her fingers (Dean could tell she was going to have beautiful hands when she was older), the way she scrunched up her nose when she yawned...she was so like him in so many ways. And yet her eyes were identical to his - bright green, large and soul-searching. Sighing and closing his eyes, Dean felt tears stinging beneath his eyelids before he said softly, "I'll keep thinking about it."

All Sam could do was watch in concern as Dean got to his feet and left the room, the infant still cradled close to his chest.

***

As soon as he had reached his room, Dean allowed himself to break.

He had not cried once since Castiel had left. He had not begged either. He had prayed to the angel countless times, calling to him, asking him where the hell he was, but he had never cried. He had never allowed himself to, especially not in front of Sam. Until now.

He allowed the pain to wash over him, and Christ, it was like a tidal wave. It battered him and threw his head and heart into a tumult that he had not thought possible. The tears silently coursed down his cheeks, his ears roared and his muscles convulsed as he held his daughter closer to his chest, weeping like he was a child himself. All the pent-up rage, terror, frustration, heartache and love poured out of him all in one go, and it felt like Castiel was reaching into his chest and wrenching his heart right out of him.

He realised the baby was awake when a soft whimper broke through the chaos that was his brain. Like a beam of light, her cry cut through the buzzing, endless darkness of his thoughts and showed him a path back to serenity. Dean remembered his duty. He remembered that it was not just Castiel in his life anymore. Castiel was still a part of it, (a huge, gaping void in it) but the child in his arms was now his sole responsibility, and he was damned if he was going to let anything happen to her. Pausing to allow his emotions to abate, he looked down at her before turning his face upwards, gazing up to some higher place and willing his following words to reach it.

"Cas...I wish to God you were here. And if you can hear me...if you can somehow bring yourself to listen...I'm here. And I don't know what to do. You've sent me our fucking DAUGHTER, Cas! What do you expect me to do? What can I do? I don't...I don't know what to do. Please, help me. Tell me what you want me to do." He paused for a second, rubbing his hand over his face, waiting for the sudden burst of anger to fade. He was trembling like a leaf, despite his attempts to stop the movement, and there were fresh tears following the tracks left behind by the old ones. "I'm a fucking coward, man. I'm a coward and I'm weak, and I'm not sure I can do this without you. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again. I need you, and I - I still love you. I'm clinging to a false hope here, man. All I've got is...all I've got is faith."

And the revelation hit him like a ten tonne of bricks.

Faith. All he had was...faith. 

Faith.

Of course.

Faith.

Looking down at his daughter, he realised. He had known her name all along. There was nothing else to name her. She was the living embodiment of the only thing that Dean was clinging to in the hope that Castiel would one day return to him.

Faith.

"Faith Mary Winchester," he murmured, smiling through the tears when the baby gazed up at him, the uncanny intelligence in her eyes making it seem like she knew he was saying her name. "Yeah. I like that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? As always, comments and kudos are always appreciated. I'm quite pleased with this chapter, but it's up to you guys to make the final judgement. =) Thanks! (Oh, and PS. I have nothing against the names Elizabeth or Daisy. :P I think they're very pretty names).


	6. Schemes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry this has taken an age to upload. I hope the relatively long chapter makes up for it, though. =) I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL! NONE OF THE CHARACTERS INCLUDED ARE MY OWN (except for Nariel and Faith).
> 
> I CLAIM NO PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS!

Gabriel just walked. He walked and walked until he looked up and realised he had no idea where the fuck he was...and then he walked some more. He couldn't be around Michael (or any other angel, for that matter) without feeling positively sick. Michael, the oldest of them all, the one brother Gabriel had looked up to all his life, the one he had striven to mimic in every way possible, the brother he had loved more than any other, was overseeing the torture and rape of Castiel, their younger brother and Gabriel's responsibility.

How could he stay calm in the other angel's presence when he knew what was going on in the next room? How in the name of Jesus fucking Christ did Michael expect Gabriel to show even the tiniest shred of support for his actions when he was going against everything they and their Father stood for? There was no way in Hell that Michael thought he was doing God's will. Gabriel knew it. God loved all his children, no matter who their parents were, and no matter who they fell in love with. That was the very essence of everything they fought for, for Christ's sake! No, it was Michael and the other angels who were running the show now - God had left the building a long, long time ago. 

He felt sick. Fuck...if he didn't get away from this place soon, he was going to go mad. This was why he had left Heaven in the first place: to escape the never-ending chain of events perpetrated by his siblings, with him agreeing with none of them. This was why he liked Earth so much; life was so much simpler. For a start, he didn't have his dick of an older brother prancing around, telling him what to do down on Earth. Secondly, humans were easier to understand than angels. Predictable. They went about their little daily routines every day without a care in the world, like ants in an anthill.

But then of course, angels could be painfully predictable too. You only had to look at his brothers and sisters to see that. They needed a leader, and now that God was no longer in the picture, Michael was the next best thing. They would follow him and do his will to the very end. Without Michael, the angels would crash and burn, and they knew it.

Jesus...why had he come back? Why had he led Castiel back here?

Because you're weak. You wanted Michael's approval. You wanted God's approval. Michael told you that God would be appeased, and you just did exactly what Michael wanted and brought Cas, your own brother, back up here to his doom. It's your fault that he's going through this. It's your fault his child is hunted. It's all your fault! And now, to top it all off, you're trapped here too! So not only have you doomed your brother to an eternity of torture, but you've also doomed yourself to an eternity of your dickhead brothers and sisters telling you what to do. Smooth moves, you prick.

Stopping in his tracks, Gabriel squeezed his eyes tightly closed, twisting his fingers into his hair and tugging, mumbling repeatedly under his breath, "No, I didn't mean to. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to hurt him. Oh fuck, Cas. I'm so sorry..."

He didn't know how long he was standing there, tears running down his cheeks, hands tugging at his hair and muttering to himself before he felt a hand on his shoulder and a soft voice murmur, "Gabriel? Are you OK?"

Surprised at the touch, Gabriel turned quickly, scrubbing his face on his sleeve as he did so. It was Samandriel, his young face open and concerned, his big blue eyes wide and ever-innocent. Groaning, Gabriel shoved the hand off and started forward again.

"Leave me alone, Samandriel," he growled. He would not allow one of his brothers to see him in this state.

"Please, Gabriel, listen to me!" Samandriel cried, reaching out to grasp Gabriel's arm before he was thrown off. Gabriel whipped around gripping the younger angel by the collar and hurling him backwards.

"I said. Leave. Me. Alone."

Dazed, Samandriel could do nothing for a few moments but lie there on the ground, stunned and dizzy, before slowly scrambling back to his feet and following his older brother.

"Gabriel...please listen to me. I - I want to help you."

"Are you fucking deaf, Samandriel? I told you to fucking LEAVE!" 

Turning, Gabriel threw out his hand and sent the younger angel flying backwards, smacking his head on a tree trunk, and holding him there. There was terror in the boy's eyes, but despite that, he managed to force out, "G-Gabriel...I want to help you! Please let me..."

"How can YOU help me, of all people? You were the one keeping Cas in his cell this whole time!"

Anger flickered across Samandriel's face at this. "Oh, of course it's all my fault! May I remind you, brother dear, that I'm not the one who brought him back here in the first place..."

He was interrupted by another surge of power from Gabriel, the pressure on his chest growing stronger, and he let out a cry of pain. 

"Don't you fucking DARE pin this one on me..."

"Then why were you c-crying, Gabriel? Why were you repeating to yourself that it wasn't your fault?" There was a pause as Samandriel's words sank in before he tentatively continued. "Look...I didn't come here to f-fight with you, brother. We are both at fault, and I want to do everything I can to right this wrong. I want to save Castiel, a-and his child. L-let me help you, Gabriel. I can get closer to Balthazar and Anna...I can find out their plans...they don't think I'm capable of it, but I am, and I will - I will do everything I can to help...please, Gabriel!"

Gabriel stared at his brother for a long moment, holding his gaze. Samandriel's words rang with truth. He was a dark horse. He was one of the youngest angels in the garrison, and because of this, was regarded by many as weak, innocent and all too holy for his own good. After the incident where he had involuntarily allowed Gabriel to send Castiel's child away, and to help him escape, he was not trusted with any big responsibilities anymore. The other angels thought he was a fool. But in truth, looking at him now, Gabriel could tell that he was cleverer than he let on. He may be useful in helping Gabriel to free Castiel...and besides, it would be worthwhile having an ally in such a scheme. Sighing, he hesitated before releasing his brother, watching him clatter to the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

"Th-thanks," Samandriel stammered, looking up and smiling shakily whilst rubbing his chest.

"Yeah, yeah, no need to thank me. Now come on. We've got work to do."

***

"Where is it?"

"I don't know."

"Where is it?"

"I don't know."

There was a sigh. "For the love of all things holy, Castiel. What good will such stubbornness do you? You only condemn yourself to further agony and humiliation with every refusal. Now, I'll ask again. Where is it?"

"I don't know."

It had become an automatic reaction now. Almost like Castiel's vocal chords were tuned to this precise response, and no matter what Nariel was doing to him, and no matter what Michael said to him, he would always answer the same: 'I don't know.' 

Another sigh. "Again, Castiel. I admire your courage...or perhaps it is merely stupidity. Anyhow...Nariel. Over to you."

Castiel only had time to see his gaoler retrieving a familiar pair of forceps before he lost consciousness.

***

Deep inside him, far from all torture and menace, something stirred.

***

"Dean! Shut her up, please!" 

"I'm going, I'm going!" 

Cursing to himself, Dean rolled out of bed, stumbling forward towards the cradle he and Sam had bought earlier that week. They had decided to place it at the foot of Dean's bed, as Dean wanted to be as close to his daughter as possible during the night. However, despite the collective security of such an arrangement, it definitely had its drawbacks.

"OK, OK, sweetie. Daddy's coming," he murmured hoarsely as he yawned widely, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes briefly before reaching into the cradle and gently lifting out the squirming, screaming form of Faith Winchester. "What's wrong, eh, baby? Are you hungry? Do you need changing?" 

However, before Dean even had a chance to figure out the reason for the crying, the noise ceased altogether, replaced only by the soft, gurgling sounds that Dean knew symbolised a very happy baby. Sighing and shaking his head, Dean yawned once again before moving back over towards the bed and reaching out to switch his bedside lamp on, filling the room with soft, golden light. Faith blinked twice in the face of the sudden brightness, before snuggling back down, close to her father's chest. Dean gazed down at her in wonder and adoration.

This had occurred several times over the nights since Faith had suddenly crash-landed (quite literally) into the Winchesters' life. She would scream and scream until Dean picked her up and held her close. At first Dean had thought she was in pain (as he was one of the most inexperienced people with infants on the planet), but eventually he had begun to realise that it couldn't have been pain that caused the incessant screaming - she was just hungry for affection. It should have been annoying; that this infant, so tiny and weak in comparison to him, already had him at her beck and call. But instead, Dean only felt unconditional love for his daughter. She had only been with them for a week, and already Dean could not imagine a life without her.

It was true that they had been unable to hunt for the past week, and Dean knew that once she was a little older, he would possibly have to take her to daycare whilst he and Sam carried out their normal day-to-day routine. Of course, that ran the risk of something bad happening to either or both of them, and that would leave Faith all alone...but Dean would think about that when the need arose.

Sighing as he looked down at her, Dean murmured, "You don't play fair, you know that? Daddy's got to have his beauty sleep too, darlin'." 

Faith replied with a happy little gurgle, to which Dean responded with a chuckle. 

"Well, you're definitely a keeper," he said, stroking the soft skin of Faith's cheek. "And don't listen to Sam. He loves you really. He's just a bit of a moody teenager, you know?"

Faith gazed up at him with those huge green eyes, the curiosity in her expression tangible. Smiling weakly in return, Dean took a moment to yawn again. God, parenting really was cutting into his four hours. 

It took another quarter of an hour before Faith had finally fallen asleep. She didn't cry anymore - just cooed and gurgled, peering up at her father, her eyes wide and inquisitive, and all the time, Dean could do nothing but smile weakly and rock her gently, hoping that she wouldn't start to cry again. Luckily, the time passed uneventfully, and Dean was able to return her to the cradle without any electrical blackouts and without reawakening Sam. Sighing with relief, he watched her for a moment to check that she really was deeply sleeping, before turning and making his way silently back over to his bed, switching off the light and closing his eyes, hoping and praying that she would not awake again until the morning. After a couple of minutes of tossing and turning, he finally felt the tentative darkness of sleep stealing over him, gently pulling him down into endless, blissful oblivion.

***

He was in a forest, pale and dull, absent of any sign of life. He felt as though his ears had been stuffed full of cotton wool. There was no sound, and yet he could clearly see the leaves of the trees sway back and forth in the wind. The temperature was neutral; not warm, but not cool...somewhere in the middle. Everything was a drab grey; the trees, the soil, the leaves...everything, even himself, had turned grey. Where the hell was he? Turning on the spot, Sam yelled out, "Hello? Is there anyone there?"

There was no response. Glaring, he turned to try the other direction...before walking straight into someone. Letting out a yelp, he leapt backwards, falling over onto his back, completely winding himself and spraining his wrist when he attempted to break his fall. 

"What...fucking...ow!" 

"Nice to see you too, Sam."

Sam froze, forgetting his pain in an instant. Raising his gaze slowly, he found himself meeting the cool yet amused eyes of none other than the archangel Gabriel.

"Gabriel?"

"Right first time, Samsquatch. Now, I'd love a tearful, heartfelt reunion, but unfortunately I don't have much time, so we're going to have to save that for next time, OK?" 

He winked, a small smirk curling his lips, and Sam felt himself blushing before he had even realised what he was supposed to blush at. Instead, he hurriedly got to his feet, brushing twigs and leaves off himself, and said sharply, "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"Bingo. Gold star. Excellent. Now Sam, I want you to listen to me carefully, because this is damn important, and there isn't anyone else on Earth I can go to for help, alright?" 

Surprised by the sudden change in tone, Sam shut his mouth, silencing the masses of questions on the tip of his tongue, and nodded wordlessly instead.

"Good. Right. See, we're in a bit of a predicament up here."

"'Up here'? You're in Heaven?"

"Right you are. You see, long story short, Cas is locked up in Heaven's interrogation cell and being tortured for information as we speak."

"What?" Sam cried, horror making his blood run cold. "C-Cas is being tortured?"

"That's what I said, isn't it? Look, Sam, I want to bust him out, but firstly, I don't know how. He's under constant surveillance from his gaoler and from Michael. Secondly, even if I did manage to get him out of there, I'd be stuck because Cas and I are trapped up here. Cas' Grace has been drained, and I've been given...restraints, shall we say. Anyway, neither of us can get out. What I want you to do is to look for a way to get us un-trapped, as it were. You know...spells of some sort to release me. And I also want you to try to find Cas' Grace. You know what it looks like. You found Anna's eventually, right? Right. So if you do that, then I'll see about getting Cas out of his cell first, OK?"

"Gabriel...why is Cas being tortured?" murmured Sam, momentarily ignoring Gabriel's request, his voice hoarse with suppressed fury.

"Why do you think? Because your brother knocked him up! Now they're interrogating him to find out where he sent the kid...but of course he doesn't know."

"W-what do you mean? Faith's here with us."

"Faith? That's what Dean's named her? Hm...wouldn't have gone for that one myself, but then I guess it's not my place to..."

"Gabriel!"

"Yes, yes, sorry. It was me who sent her, OK? Michael sent me to kill her, but instead I sent her down to you. Understand?" 

"You sent her."

"Yes."

"And Cas doesn't know where she is."

"Nope. Not a clue."

Sam hesitated, struggling to wrap his head around such vast quantities of new information. God...Dean was going to go crazy. 

"OK...yes. I'll do it. Just...fucking Christ...get Cas out of there as soon as you can."

"Will do. I'll pay you another visit tomorrow night, OK? To see what you've found."

"Y-yes. Yes, OK."

"Great. Oh, and Sam? Don't tell Dean. His emotions will cloud his judgement. Besides, he's got a newborn baby on his hands. He can't afford to get rash with that kind of responsibility."

"Wait...what? What the hell do you expect me to tell him, then?"

"You'll think of something, I'm sure. See you later, kiddo!" 

He clicked his fingers.

Sam awoke back in his own bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Awww, I do love Samandriel. :3 Please feel free to leave comments/kudos if you have the time! I love hearing your feedback! =) Thanks!


	7. Angels and demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated in ages...I had a hard time writing this chapter because I had very little inspiration. I hope it's not too bad, and I'll try to update more quickly next time. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL! NONE OF THE CHARACTERS INCLUDED IN THE STORY ARE MY OWN (except for Faith and Nariel).
> 
> I CLAIM NO PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS!!
> 
> THE TITLE OF THE CHAPTER IS TAKEN FROM THE NOVEL OF THE SAME NAME BY DAN BROWN. I DON'T OWN THAT EITHER. SADLY.

"Sammy?"

"Yes Dean?"

"We need more diapers. We've run out already."

"Already? Jesus, Dean. We only got that new pack two days ago."

"Yeah, well, we need more. I'll be back in a few. You keep doing...whatever it is you're doing."

Sam looked up at that, his throat going dry with momentary panic as he covered the page as subtly as he possibly could. Luckily, this movement went unnoticed by Dean, who was busy fitting the coat he had bought for Faith a few days ago onto his baby daughter, who was cooing happily, her little fists clenching and unclenching as she held them up. Letting out a sigh of relief, Sam couldn't help but smile at the scene. Dean had taken so well to parenting - like a duck to water. It had never been something Sam had ever imagined Dean would take to. His brother had always been terrified of the prospect of becoming a father. He hadn't wanted anything to do with a child. He couldn't commit. How could he, being a hunter, when every day brought a new danger? 

But then, of course, Castiel had come along. Seeing them together had only cemented the idea in Sam's head that Dean had found the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Besides, Castiel was a man, or at least his vessel was, so Dean had let his guard down. How was he to know that angels, even those in male vessels, could get pregnant? But then Castiel had disappeared back to Heaven, taken by Gabriel, broken and bloody. Both he and Dean had thought the angel was dead. Of course, Dean had put on a brave face like he always did, but he had barely been able to do anything without his grief affecting him in some way or another. Many jobs had had to be abandoned halfway through because Dean just couldn't focus on anything. He was reckless and mindless of his own safety. He was a danger to himself. 

Sam remembered the terror in Dean's eyes when he first found out that Faith was his and Castiel's daughter. His arms had begun to tremble as he held her delicately, so scared and unsure of what to do. Sam had been tempted to take the child off him. He looked like he was going to drop the poor thing. He had seen all the questions in his brother's expression. How was he going to care for a child? How was he going to support a child? How was he going to raise a child? How was he, Dean Winchester, the most fucked-up person in all of history, going to care for and raise a child, providing it with everything it needed, giving it a normal life...it couldn't happen. And what if he died? What if this goddamn job killed him off, and the baby was left all alone with no-one to care for her?

Sam had understood. He was thinking the same things.

But once again, Dean had surprised Sam and turned out to be an extremely capable father. He tended to Faith with such love, such awe, such adoration - it was unlike anything Sam had ever seen in the other man before - not even when he cared for the Impala. But then...parenthood was a little different to a car, so why was he so surprised?

"Hey...dude? Sam?"

Sam snapped out of it at the sound of Dean's voice. His brother had finished the task of dressing Faith, peering at him from across the room, a slight frown upon his face. "You alright?" 

"Y-yeah, yeah, sorry. Just...seeing you with Faith. It's weird. You're not actually as awful a dad as I thought you'd be."

A broad grin spread across Dean's face at this. "Thanks, Sammy. Good to know someone appreciates my efforts."

"Hey, Faith appreciates you too, even if she doesn't know it yet. You wait until she can talk. You'll wish she was a baby again."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You want anything?"

"Er...nothing for me, thanks."

"I'll get us some pie. I need pie. And some baby milk...and maybe some candy..."

The incessant mumbling continued as Dean turned and made his way slowly from the room, closing the door of the bunker behind him. Sam watched him go with an amused smile, shaking his head. As soon the door had slammed closed, he moved his hand from the page he had been studying, his amusement fading as he let out a long breath that he hadn't even known he had been holding in. 

"This is ridiculous," he murmured as he started to read once again. 

After a few seconds of scanning the page, he groaned with frustration, clawing his hands through his hair. This was getting stupid. How the hell was he supposed to keep this up without Dean noticing and asking questions? He wouldn't be out getting supplies all the time. Plus, there were innumerable books that could possibly contain the information he needed, and with Dean breathing down his neck all day, how did Gabriel expect Sam to do an adequate amount of research without his elder brother noticing? Turning yet another page of useless information only to find yet another, Sam cursed loudly. This was going to be a very long day.

***

"Have you heard anything new about Joshua?"

"No, unfortunately. I haven't been allowed to see him for the past few days. Gadreel won't tell me anything."

"Gadreel...he is in charge of Joshua?"

"Him and Naomi. Gadreel worked so closely with Joshua...he knows him better than anyone else. And Naomi...she is the only one of us able to delve so deeply into another angel's subconscious that they are brought back into the light. But from what I've gathered, it's not looking good," said Anna, sighing and shaking her head. "Something went terribly wrong when the Abomination entered Heaven...and when it was born...well, last I heard, I think it sent Joshua mad."

A long pause ensued. Balthazar let out a hiss of air from between his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. This was bad. If Joshua was sent mad...then who would be the medium between God and His children? How would they know which steps to take...especially considering the crisis with the missing nephilim. They needed all of the guidance from God that they could get. Without Him...where were they to go? What were they to do? Heaven would be in turmoil. 

"What about Castiel? Has Michael got any closer to discovering the nephilim's whereabouts?" 

"No," replied Balthazar. "He's as stubborn as a rock, is Cas. He's not going to be giving in anytime soon. Michael and Nariel have tried everything. Nearly every form of mental and physical torture they can. All the powers of Heaven are being used against him, and still he won't crack." Balthazar paused, flexing his fingers absently as he chose his next words carefully. "Michael's going to replace Nariel with Naomi, you know. He thinks her talents would be better suited with Castiel. She got into his head before...she can do it again. She'll know what to do."

"But what about Joshua?" 

Balthazar shrugged. "Search me. Maybe Gabriel will be brought in?"

"That traitor shall not get anywhere near Joshua. And if Michael even tries it, I will stop him myself. I still wonder why the fool didn't kill him where he stood."

"Well...Gabriel is one of the oldest of us, and he and Michael were always close...perhaps his favourite, if we're not including Lucifer. Michael has always been loyal to his family. God will always come first, and then us, his brothers and sisters. He will not kill Gabriel, just like he will not kill Cas. He will torture and humiliate him, yes, but he will not kill him."

"Then he is even more of an idiot than I first thought. Gabriel is plotting something. He is known as the Trickster down on Earth, right? Who's to say he hasn't given up his old ways?"

"If you think Michael trusts him then you are wrong. Michael will not entrust any important tasks to him. He isn't stupid. He knows Gabriel is a Trickster and will use any means possible to get out of this, and possibly to save Cas too. He has taken precautions. You don't need to worry about that on our dear brother's behalf, Anna."

Glaring at him, Anna turned away for a moment, folding her arms across her chest. "If Michael is so worried about the nephilim, then he needs to hurry up and find it. I wouldn't be surprised if Lucifer's got his dirty hands on it already."

"You have too little faith in our brother, Anna."

"I don't think I have much reason to have faith in any of my siblings, or God, for that matter. I was cast out of Heaven by them, my Grace was taken and my memories were erased. I think I have an excuse to be angry and to lack faith."

Balthazar said nothing. What could he say to that? It was true. Anna had every right to be angry with Michael. 

"We should do something. Anything. Just...I am tired of this endless waiting. Michael is an idiot, God's only medium in Heaven is mad, and every day Lucifer's army gets closer to finding the nephilim before we do. I'm starting to think we should go in and get the information out of Castiel ourselves."

"Now, now, Anna. Being impatient will get us nowhere."

"You sound like them, Balthazar. Why do you think you are the only one I talk civilly to, outside of business? You are the only one who cares to understand. Don't lose that title for the sake of our idiot brother."

Balthazar hesitated, not liking where this conversation was going. "So...what are you suggesting, exactly? You're tired of waiting. I understand that. So what are you going to do about it?"

A pause. "We should intervene. Castiel does not respond to Nariel because he has got into a routine. He has tried everything he can on him. He can do nothing worse to him...except, maybe..."

"What?" asked Balthazar, cocking his head to one side, although he had a feeling he already knew what Anna was going to say.

"Perhaps he would respond if something or someone he cared about was brought into the equation..."

Anna paused, as if she was pondering her next words carefully before she spoke. Balthazar watched her intensely, feeling nervous for the first time in a long, long time. 

It was in that moment that he remembered why Anna had been cast out of Heaven.

Then, with a decisiveness and brutal excitement that made Balthazar's skin crawl, his sister murmured softly, "Dean Winchester. We need Dean Winchester."

And it was at that moment that Samandriel walked in.

***

"Castiel?"

A pause.

"Castiel? Open your eyes for me, Castiel."

This was different. This was not Michael, and neither was it Nariel. The voice sounded familiar, and yet Castiel could not place it. How did he know that voice?

"Open your eyes, Castiel. Be careful, though. The light is quite bright."

Open his...eyes? Why was the voice telling him to open his eyes? He did not want to open his eyes. If he opened his eyes, all he would see was the horror of his true situation. 

"I won't hurt you, Castiel. Just open your eyes, and you will see that everything is OK. Trust me."

That voice...it sent shudders down his spine, and yet it was so disarmingly gentle, so soothing...it was so different to the repetitive, demanding tones of Michael's voice, or the harsh, angry sound of Nariel's. Why did his entire being baulk at the sound of that voice, when it sounded so harmless, so kind and motherly? 

He opened his eyes.

The brightness of the room nearly blinded him. This was different. Michael's interrogation cell had been dark - as dark as night, and cold. This room was cool - not too hot, and yet not too cold, and all white. Someone moved in front of him; a large, dark shape that temporarily blotted out the light, and he flinched instinctively, waiting for the fist that was sure to collide with his jaw, or the knives that would carve his flesh like those of a butcher, or the vice that would crush his fingers and toes one by one. None of these came. Instead, a soft, gentle hand touched his forehead, moving carefully across his wounds and healing them one by one. His breathing cleared and the agony of his various broken bones and wounds eased. 

"Look at me, Castiel. You have nothing to fear from me. I just want to talk. Do you understand?"

Slowly, slowly, Castiel's vision began to adjust to the aching brightness of the room, and he was able to make out his surroundings. Everything was white...a white desk, a white chair, white walls, white floor...and a woman in a slate grey suit standing before him, like an imperfect blot against the flawless white canvas of the room...and yet the imperfection of the blot fit, somehow - like a piece of modern art. A small smile crept onto the woman's face. 

"Hello, Castiel. Do you remember who I am?"

The brief, blissful moment before the bombshell hit was far too short. Castiel stared at her face. He knew her from somewhere...but from where? He looked at her face. The wrinkles around her eyes. The auburn strands of her hair, neatly held back by a clip. Her lipstick: a pale pink colour. Something was niggling in the back of his brain, something that was screaming at him to get away from this woman right now...but when he tried to move, he found that his wrists and ankles were strapped down. And it was this that made the memories come flooding back.

Naomi. 

Something surged inside Castiel, and the lights snapped off.

***

Dean made his way down the aisle, Faith propped up in the crook of one arm, peering at the exceedingly small variety of pies the shop had on offer. To be completely honest, Dean was disappointed. He would have to make a complaint to the manager about the lack of pie. 

"What do you think, Faith? Shall we go sweet or savoury?" 

Faith made no comment, simply staring, wide-eyed, at the variation of pastries on offer. Dean smirked to himself as he looked down at her. "You're going to be a pie lover, just like your dad, aren't you? None of this cake crap."

Faith responded with a soft gurgle, though her eyes never left the pies. Chuckling, Dean made his decision (apple pie...he decided to go classic) and made his way over to the till, also carrying three deluxe packs of diapers and some baby milk. However, before he could even start to place the shopping on the conveyor belt, Faith started to scream. It was shrill, incessant and incredibly loud, and Dean saw several shoppers look over in his direction with a look of disapproval on their faces, as if they thought Dean should not be caring for a baby himself. Glaring back at them, Dean placed the shopping on the belt before rocking Faith gently back and forth, shushing her and murmuring, "Hey, hey, baby. What's up? What is it? Are you hungry? Daddy's got some baby milk for you to have once we're home. Just a little longer, OK, sweetie?"

"Do you want me to hold her?"

Dean looked up at this to see the shop assistant behind the counter (a young girl in her late teens) looking adoringly at Faith. Instinctively, he held the child closer to his chest.

"I have experience with babies. I can calm her down, if you want," she said, a bright smile on her face.

Dean was almost tempted to hand her over, but immediately remembered the dangers of such an action. Shaking his head with a grateful smile, he said, "No thanks, I'm OK. I'll just pay and then get her home as quickly as possible."

Looking down, he started to rummage around in his pocket to find the money he needed.

"I think you should reconsider that statement."

"What?"

Dean looked up, frowning in confusion at the sudden change in the girl's tone. What he saw made his blood run cold. The girl's eyes, once a pretty pale blue, were now completely black. Eyes widening, Dean reached for his demon blade before he found himself being launched backwards across the shop, crashing into one of the displays and slamming back into the wall, Faith, wailing even more loudly, still clutched tightly to his chest. In the midst of his struggling, he saw at least five other demons accompanying the first girl. Before he had a chance to blink, the small group of customers and shop assistants in the shop were sprawled across the floor, either lying in pools of their own blood, or with a snapped neck. He attempted to struggle, but the demon's power only pressed him tighter against the wall, causing him to let out a groan of pain.

"Well, well, well. I didn't think it'd be this easy. Dean Winchester, out for a little stroll, with his most-wanted nephilim offspring in his arms. Who'd have thought it? The boss will be pleased," the girl said, a nasty smirk on her face as she stepped forward, her eyes flickering from inky black, back to their original pale blue.

"Get the fuck away from her," snarled Dean, trying to tighten his hold around the infant without success.

"Tut tut, Dean. Such language, in front of your infant child. She'll learn a much better vocabulary with us."

Slowly, the demon started to move forward, a menacing, predatory smile upon her face. 

"You don't need to worry, Dean. Your baby won't be hurt. We'll look after her. We'll make sure no harm comes to her. It's not as if we're going to kill her."

Dean's flesh crawled at the demon's words. He wasn't buying a single one of them.

"I won't let you do this..."

"Oh sweetie, I don't think you have much of a choice," smirked the demon as she got closer, close enough to touch Dean, but instead she reached out towards the baby. 

It was like time stood still for a moment. In fact, looking back, Dean wouldn't be surprised if it had. Before he knew what was happening, three of the demons towards the back of the shop started to scream in apparent agony. The other three, including the shop assistant girl, turned to stare at their colleagues in shock and confusion. But it was what happened next that caused them to panic. 

Light, as bright white as the sun itself, was pouring from the demons' eyes and mouths as they screamed, burning through their very being. Dean's eyes widened as he realised what was happening. 

Faith was smiting the demons. Faith, a three-week-old infant, was smiting the demons, and she wasn't even touching them. 

Upon realising this, two of the other demons started to panic, trying to run for the doors. However they hadn't got very far before they too were lying on the ground, their eyes burned out of their skulls. Whipping around to face them, the girl's face was contorted into equal expressions terror and fury. Seeing this, Dean couldn't help but smirk.

"I'd run, if I were you."

Letting out an animalistic growl, instead of running the demon made to leap at him, her arms outstretched for the infant. She hadn't moved half an inch before the light had consumed her too, her screams echoing around the now empty space of the shop. With her life, her power was suddenly drained, and Dean instantly found himself falling into a crumpled heap upon the floor, Faith still cradled to his chest, but now as silent as a mouse. Stunned, he lay there for a moment, allowing the sensations to seep back into his extremities before he started to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position, wincing as he did so. Glancing down at the infant in his arms, he quickly gave her a once-over to check that she was unharmed. He couldn't help but smile weakly when he saw that she was fast asleep. 

"Jesus, Faith. If you give your dad any more surprises, you're going to give him a heart attack."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, whaddaya think? Again, sorry if it's really crummy. I lacked inspiration for this chapter, but I hope it's OK! Please feel free to leave a comment/kudos if you have the time! I love hearing your feedback. =) Thank you!


	8. Coming apart at the seams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. I've been busy recently, what with summer and all that, and I've also been procrastinating to a very high level. :P Anyway, I'm quite pleased, so I hope you enjoy it despite my failings at updating regularly. =)
> 
> Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL! NONE OF THE CHARACTERS INVOLVED IN THIS STORY ARE MY OWN, (except for Faith, Nariel and Miriel).
> 
> I CLAIM NO PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS!

"They're going to get Dean, and they want me to help."

There was a lingering pause as Gabriel slowly lifted his head, eyes wide and forehead creased in a mixture of surprise and disbelief. 

"What?"

"Anna and Balthazar are going to get Dean to make Castiel comply. They don't think Naomi will get anywhere with him, so they're going to try and find Dean. I - I asked if they would let me help them - you know, because you said you wanted me to do that - and they agreed. So...yeah. They're going to let me out of here to help them. So I'll be able to come back up and tell you what's what and I'll be able to warn the Winchesters..."

"Wait, Samandriel...just slow down a second. Let me just...let me just get my head around this." 

Gabriel hesitated as he closed his eyes, massaging his temples for a moment to clear his mind before running his fingers once through his hair and turning back to face his brother.

"First thing's first. You do not go anywhere near the Winchesters unless I tell you to. For a start, you wouldn't even be able to find them in the first place unless I told you. They're protected by every ward and sigil under the sun. And secondly, Anna and Balthazar will be watching your every move. Do you honestly think those two trust you enough to send you out on a mission like this on your own? No. They know I'm up to something, and they know you've been consulting with me. You're young. They think you'll let something slip if they stick at it. They're clever bastards like that, kiddo. You've got to keep your nose clean. Do what you can down there. Pretend you're searching for Dean Winchester. But don't, whatever you do, lead them to him, because if they find him, then this battle we're fighting - it'll be lost before it's even begun."

It took a moment for Samandriel to understand the implications of Gabriel's words, and when he did his eyes became so round that they looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets. 

"Th-the nephilim..."

"Shut your face, you idiot. They'll be listening to us."

"I-I'm sorry. But...what do you want me to do?" 

"Like I said. Pretend. It’s all about pretending. Acting. Just don't ask me to tell you where the Winchesters are. And if on the off chance you do find out where they are, which I highly doubt, do not, whatever you do, lead the angels to them."

Face flushed and eyes as wide as lollipops, Samandriel nodded hesitantly before swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, his palms sweaty with nervousness. Seeing the sudden change in the boy, Gabriel sighed and rolled his eyes, not even pausing to think about what he was doing before pulling his younger brother into a bear hug, patting him encouragingly on the back.

"You'll be fine. Try not to look like such a rabbit in the headlights, or they'll be onto you for sure. I'm kidding bro, I'm kidding. But seriously, calm down a bit. You're going to do great. All you have to do is do a bit of acting. You can do that, right? You're one of those theatre kids, aren't you?" 

The terror in Samandriel's expression diminished a little at his brother's jibe, and he responded by pushing Gabriel away, a small smile beginning to form on his face. 

"Shut up. I'm not a theatre kid."

"Hey, nothing wrong with loving the arts, kiddo. Now go on. Knock 'em dead."

However, before Samandriel could get very far, an angel had appeared before him. It was Miriel, a younger angel who was clearly acting under strict orders, judging by the apologetic looks she kept throwing in Gabriel's direction, as well as the constant wringing of her hands.

"Gabriel, your presence is required in Michael's office," she said, stammering over every word.

"Why?" Gabriel snapped, his mood instantly darkening at the mention of his older brother.

"I am sorry, but it is against my orders to divulge that information," Miriel said, clearly reciting words that had been repeated over and over again until she had learnt them by heart.

"Well, Miriel, I'm sorry, but could you tell Michael that I'm a little busy right now? I am really not up for another one of his interrogations."

"I am afraid it can't wait, Gabriel. I-I'm sorry. Michael was quite adamant."

"Well, so am I. I'm not going to be interrogated and tortured to an inch of my life by Michael and his bully-boys."

Miriel's expression became pleading, eyes wide and face pale. Both Gabriel and Samandriel could see that she was terrified of Michael and was afraid that she would bear the brunt of his anger later. Deciding to take pity on the girl, Gabriel closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten, clearing his mind before opening them again and nodding abruptly. Stepping forward to stand beside the other angel, he gave Samandriel a rueful smile and a final wink before he and his escort disappeared amidst a sudden rush of air and the sound of flapping wings.

***

It was two days after the incident with the demons that Crowley showed up again. Dean was busy taking a break from looking after Faith by treating himself to the apple pie he had bought from the shop two days ago (he had refused to leave it behind), whilst Sam sat on the sofa, Faith sleeping peacefully in his arms, whilst also balancing his laptop on his knees, scrolling down a list of results for 'meteor showers usa october 2014', stifling a yawn as he did so.

"Hello boys. Just here to check up on young Faith, is all."

Crowley's usual amused yet controlled tone broke the silence, nearly giving the brothers a heart attack and almost causing Dean to have a major accident as he attempted to scramble closer to Sam and the baby.

"Shit, Crowley, you son of a bitch!" the elder Winchester snarled, practically snatching Faith from his brother, cradling her close to his chest. 

Of course this sudden movement awoke the child, but rather than crying like she usually would have done at such an action, she simply lay there, blinking up at her father in bemusement before turning her head a little to stare at Crowley. Both Dean and Sam immediately braced themselves for the screaming fit they were sure was to follow because of the demon's presence (Dean had filled Sam in on all the details of their little escapade in the shop two days previously), but were surprised and intensely relieved when no such thing occurred. The smugness of Crowley's expression only increased, making Dean's skin crawl. 

"Looks like she likes me," he murmured, his lips quirking to one side. 

"Why are you here, Crowley?" Dean growled, green eyes flashing with an intensity that could have burned holes in Crowley's well-tailored suit.

"Why do you think I'm here? I told you at the end of my last visit I'd be popping round to check up on the little minx, didn't I? And anyway, I was worried about her."

"Worried? You were worried about my daughter?"

"Your lack of faith in my emotional and empathetic side wounds me, Dean. Anyway, how could I not be worried, what with the little tyke expelling that vast amount of energy on Lucifer's soldiers? Her little heart could have given out," Crowley said, grinning when he saw Dean's expression change to one of shock and horror.

"You know about that?"

"Jesus Christ, Dean. Every demon in Hell knows about Faith's little smiting spree. I wouldn't be surprised if the guys upstairs did too."

"Do they know where she is?" Sam asked suddenly, getting to his feet to stand beside his brother.

"Well, they would know where she was last - that shop you smashed to pieces," said Crowley, gazing pointedly at Dean. "But unless they tracked you to the very door of this bunker, then you're pretty much safe for now. Don’t get your knickers in too much of a twist, Moose." 

Nodding, Sam turned away, getting into his old habit of pacing relentlessly, raking his fingers through his hair. 

"How did the demons know where Faith and Dean were, Crowley?" he asked abruptly, never breaking his stride.

Eyebrows raised, Crowley let out a little laugh of incredulity. "Surely you don't think I had anything to do with it?"

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

"Oh deary me. You got me there, boys. Yes, it was me who told the demons who don't even work for me any more and wouldn't do anything for me even if I grovelled before them on my very knees that you and the nephilim would be going to get groceries that day. Yes, I got them to follow my orders, even though they would rather spit in my face and slice off my dick with a Demon blade. I told them because I want Lucifer to get his dirty hands on the kid. I told them because I want fucking Michael to get his hands on the kid. I told them because of course I fucking knew where you were going to be that day at that exact time because I am a bloody psychic! Yes boys, it was me. I'm so terribly sorry. Just shoot me now and get it over with. It's better than standing in a room with two bleeding idiots who can't tell who's trying to help them and who isn't!"

Throughout the tirade, Crowley's voice gradually got louder and higher-pitched until the lights were flickering, the sheer force of his fury sending the electricity crackling and popping. However, before he had the chance to cut the power completely, his fury was interrupted when he found himself being flung across the room, crashing into the very same drinks cabinet and spilling the same contents to which he had been helping himself the last time he had paid the Winchesters a visit. Letting out a string of heinous curse words, Crowley was able to scramble to his feet, shards of broken glass mixed with various types of liquor glittering in his hair, on his shoulders and about his feet, snarling, "What was that for, you insolent little witch?" before being hurled back against the wall again, his head cracking painfully against the brick.

Glancing down at Faith, Dean couldn't help a small smile curling the corners of his lips when he saw the infant's eyes glowing white-blue, bright and ethereal. Looking back up at the King of Hell, currently pinned to the wall of the bunker with a look of pure murder on his face, he shrugged and said with a grin, "She's a Winchester. What did you expect? She's protective of her family. And she doesn't take kindly to being called names."

"Get me...down from here..." hissed Crowley, his gaze, filled with a combination of fury and pain, fixed upon Dean and the baby girl in his arms.

A couple more seconds passed before Faith deemed it a suitable time to release Crowley, sending him crashing to the floor once more, crushing the already splintered remains of the liquor cabinet, a muffled cry of "Fucking Christ!" rending the air. Even Sam could not resist a chuckle when he heard the quiet, happy gurgle from Faith - she definitely was her father's daughter.

Scrabbling to his feet and brushing himself down, face flushed with fury and humiliation, the demon moved forward a step, fixing Faith with an intense glare before straightening his jacket and looking Dean square in the face.

"Glad to see the little one's doing alright. I might be in touch, depending on whether this sprain rights itself," he said, wincing as he attempted to move his wrist in a circular motion. Turning to Sam, he nodded once, saying, "See you around, Moose."

Before the boys had the chance to blink, he had disappeared.

***

"Gabriel. Little brother, it's so good to see you."

"I wish I could say the same for you, Mikey-boy."

Michael smiled, small and humourless, accompanied by a short, breathy laugh that caused his shoulders to jerk once before he turned his back and began to pace slowly, rubbing the forefinger and thumb of his right hand together in thoughtful contemplation. 

"You can drop the pretences with me, Gabriel. I know that you know where the nephilim is."

"Now what in the world gave you that idea, brother?" Gabriel asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Cocking his head to one side, Michael took one step forward before saying, "We will find it, Gabriel."

"I highly doubt that, considering neither Cas nor myself are ever going to tell you where she is."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. You see, Gabriel, I know where it is. Or at least, I know where it was last."

Gabriel stopped in his tracks. "Excuse me?"

"The nephilim was last seen smiting several demons at once in a convenience store in Lawrence, Kansas. Seems its powers are developing fast. And, what do you know, it was with its daddy too. Smart move on Dean's part - going out for a shopping spree when all of Heaven and Hell are after that child."

"So if you know where she is, why are you wasting time bragging to me about it? Why don't you hop it down to Earth and take her?" Gabriel asked, choosing his words carefully whilst also trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Michael was a clever bastard. He would do anything it took to wheedle the information he needed out of Gabriel. 

As Gabriel had suspected, Michael's expression fell, his eyebrows drawing together into a deep glare. The younger archangel quirked a smile, moving to lean his shoulder lazily against the wall, one eyebrow raised in an expression of expectancy. There was a lingering pause before Michael finally closed his eyes and shook his head, rubbing his face once and saying, "You know why."

"Well, I ain't giving you the information you need, bro. Cas is my brother - our brother. He trusts me. I'm not going to betray that trust, no matter what you do to me. You can torture me all you want. You can send me to Naomi. You can cast me out of Heaven and drain my Grace. Neither me nor Cas are ever going to tell you where his kid or the Winchesters are."

When Michael turned away the silence was so thick it could have been cut with a knife, and for one short moment Gabriel thought that he had gained the upper hand in this discussion. He allowed himself to feel a brief glimmer of triumph - until he saw Michael turn with that slow deliberateness and that shit-eating smile that meant he had come up with a comeback so devastating that Gabriel knew he was toast. 

"I actually got you there, didn't I? Got your guard down. Don't try to deny it, brother. I saw that self-satisfied smirk of yours. Well, sorry Gabriel, but I don't need your help. You know I sent Castiel to Naomi a couple of months ago, yes? I was at my wit's end. My best gaoler used every trick in the book and still not a peep. Naomi was my last hope, and she will not let me down. She got into Castiel's head relatively easily last time. She will do it again."

"...What are you talking about?"

"I'm afraid, brother dear, that if I told you, I'd have to kill you."

"Trickster, remember? I wouldn't let you kill me. Anyway, Naomi can't crack Cas. He's powerful, remember? Or did you forget about that one tiny little detail about the alterations an angel's body goes through when they give birth to a nephilim? Cas is twice as powerful than he used to be. He's a ticking time bomb just waiting to blow up in our faces."

"Don't be cocky, Gabriel. It isn't becoming. Yes, if you must know. There have been a few...complications in terms of Castiel's complicity. He has gained powers that have nothing to do with his Grace, and therefore we cannot control them. He is unstable and unpredictable. But despite that, I have faith in Naomi, and you should too. If all goes well, Lucifer won't be released from the Cage again anytime soon. You don't want to give him a second chance with that Archangel blade, do you, brother?"

Gabriel glowered at him, his amber eyes glittering dangerously. "You are such a dick."

"It's all for a good cause, and you know that. Come on - stop trying to be so loyal to him. Yes, he's put his trust in you, but you're the Trickster. You manipulate people into trusting you all the time, don't you? Isn't that what you did with the Winchesters?"

"Not Cas. Not after everything he's been through."

"Really? I can't tempt you?"

He was taunting him now - something Michael did very rarely, and when he did, it made Gabriel hate him all the more. He did not reply, simply glaring daggers at his brother's chest, wishing they were real and the blood he imagined staining Michael's pristine white shirt was really there. It would make things a whole lot easier for him...although it might just turn the whole of Heaven against him instead, so maybe it was a good thing his Archangel blade had been taken away.

Michael paused, regarding the other archangel with disdainful interest before sighing and rubbing his hands together. 

"Right then. Have it your way. So...I'm afraid that until Naomi has finished with Castiel, you're going to have to be under constant surveillance. And by that I mean in a cell. Nothing personal. It'll be over before you know it."

Rolling his eyes and holding out his hands in a gesture of peace, Gabriel, adopting a particularly bored tone for emphasis, (because what was there to stop him from using a bit of melodrama in his speech every once in a while?) said, "Oh come on, Michael. Is that really necessary? A bit old-school for your tastes, isn't it?"

"I like to go a bit old-school every now and then. Miriel, go and fetch Nariel. Gabriel needs escorting to his cell."

"You're unbelievable."

"I aim to impress."

"And by that I mean you're a complete and utter dick."

"Likewise." 

Their verbal sparring was briefly interrupted by the sound of flapping wings, signalling Miriel and Nariel's return.

"And look, your ride's here. Thank you for being so prompt, Nariel."

"You won't find her, Michael."

"I beg to differ. But I suppose we're just going to have to agree to disagree. See you soon, brother. I'll make sure you're kept comfortable."

And before Gabriel had the chance to make a snarky response, he found himself being whisked away by the two angels, feeling angrier and more confused than he had when he had arrived.

***

"Now Castiel, you remember our exercises? You remember what you have to do?"

"I - I do."

"Then do it. Do what you did before. Do what you know you have to do. Kill the child."

The cold metal hilt of the Angel blade was pressed into his palm, cooling the heated skin and sending goosebumps springing up along his arms. He lifted the blade to eye level, examining it closely: the way the light glinted evilly off its shining silver surface; the lethally sharp edge, winking in the terrible brightness of the white, sterile space of Naomi's office; the way the hilt fitted into his palm so easily, like it had been made for him and him alone - like it had been made for him to carry out this very task. He looked up, his face blank and emotionless, and saw for the one hundredth time that day Dean Winchester, clutching a tiny baby to his chest.

"Cas...Cas no...this isn't you! Stay back! Stay away from her! Look at what you're doing! She's our daughter, Cas!" 

But he paid no heed to Dean's pleas. Ignoring the cries of grief and the wide-eyed, innocent gaze of the baby, Castiel marched forward and slit Dean's throat, cold, ruthless and emotionless, and snatched the child from Dean's arms as he collapsed to the ground, a series of hideous choking, gurgling sounds bubbling up from his throat. The child began to wail in terror, tears streaming down her cheeks and mouth open wide as Castiel raised the Angel blade, ready to stab it into her heart. 

And it was then that Castiel hesitated. What was he doing? Had he just killed Dean? 

"No, no, no...this can't be happening..." he mumbled, the Angel blade clattering to the ground as he scooped his daughter into his arms and sped forward, dropping to his knees beside Dean's prone figure, still choking and coughing as he struggled to breathe. 

Tears blurred Castiel's vision as he desperately tried to staunch the the bleeding with his one free hand, pressing down as hard as he dared, all the time mumbling, "No, no, no, no Dean please...I'm so sorry I'm so sorry oh god Dean please don't die I can't lose you oh fucking Christ Dean..."

But it was too late. Dean gazed up at him, green eyes wide and glassy, his body limp and lifeless. He was too late. He had done it again. Every single time he would get to this point and he would suddenly remember who he was, and what he had just done to the one man he loved more than any other.

"Dean," he whispered hoarsely, the grief ripping at his heart for the one hundredth time that day as he lowered his forehead to the figure's chest, holding his daughter close to himself with one arm and desperately curling his fists into Dean's jacket with the other. 

His sobs were heart-wrenching, torn from his very core and sending his entire body shuddering like a leaf in the wind. He had thought it would stop hurting so much after the first few times...but no. It just got more and more painful each time as he realised that every time he was closer to killing his daughter as well. Each time he came back to himself, the blade was a little closer to the infant's chest. And he was fighting it, god, he was fighting it with every ounce of his being, but Naomi was clever, and she had got him under her thumb, just like she had last time, and this time he might not be so lucky. 

Then, just like every time this happened, the two warm presences of Dean and the infant were gone. The blood that had painted Castiel's hands had disappeared, and yet the grief was still there, tearing the Dean-shaped hole in his heart open just a fraction wider.

He was coming apart at the seams, and no-one was there to stop it. 

"Castiel, what have I told you? He is not your friend. He is not your lover. He is a speck, an ant, an amoeba in comparison to the maelstrom...the supernova, that you are. And the nephilim...it is not your child. You are not its father. You were simply its Host – a means for entering this world from the dark world from whence it came. It is an Abomination. Don't you see? If the nephilim is allowed to live then we are all doomed. We will all perish in the fires of Hell as Lucifer is released from his Cage. You must help us, Castiel. Only you can prevent the apocalypse from returning to our doorsteps. You must forget all preconceived feelings you may have for either of these people. The only way Heaven and Earth can be saved, is if you destroy the nephilim."

Castiel did not move. The hole in his heart only became larger and more painful in response to Naomi's words. His face was pressed into the cool, smooth surface of the floor, his face stiff with salt and his vision blurred with tears and fatigue. They had been at it for days, weeks...maybe even months. He was not going to last for much longer. He was so exhausted...why didn't it stop? Why wouldn't Naomi let him rest?

"Come, Castiel. You must try again. You must leave these feelings behind you. They are irrelevant now."

She helped him to his feet. Castiel wanted to believe that she really was trying to help him - that she was the mother figure he had never had, and never would have. But then she released him, her long nails digging into his arms for a fleeting moment before pushing him from her, as if to accentuate the fact that the ideal would never be true. 

But before he had a chance to beg for mercy, to plead for his sanity (for he feared that he would soon lose it if he was forced to kill Dean one more time), the impassive mask had settled over his brain once more, imprisoning his mind in a cage of brutality and mercilessness. He was no longer Castiel. He was a killing machine, and his one mission was to kill the nephilim, whatever the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? I quite enjoyed writing Gabriel and Michael's scene. I like to imagine the two of them having 'verbal sparring' matches when they were younger (if you can call it that) and Michael always winning because despite the fact that Gabriel was a Trickster, Michael was always slightly cannier than him. Anyway, I hope you like it, and comments/kudos are greatly appreciated! I love hearing your feedback. =)


	9. Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I'm so sorry for the incredibly long hiatus. School's hit me full force and I've had barely any time to write. Still, I hope you enjoy the chapter after such a long wait. The action is hopefully going to start in the next couple of chapters, but right now you've got a bit of angsty Cas and cutesy Dean. So...enjoy! :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL. NONE OF THE CHARACTERS INCLUDED IN THE STORY ARE MY OWN (except for Nariel, Miriel and Faith).
> 
> I CLAIM NO PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS.

When Sam next found himself in the dream forest, the first thing he noticed about Gabriel was his solemnity. There was a deadness in his expression which Sam had not seen before, and it immediately caused a pang of worry to wrench his heart. The silence between them lasted for a couple of seconds, before Gabriel opened his mouth and said very softly, "They know she's with you."

Sam froze, a cold, numbing fear gripping his heart and a strange rushing sound filling his ears. He stumbled a little, and Gabriel took a step forward, one hand outstretched, ready to steady him if need be, but he lifted his arm in an indication that he was fine.

"Did you tell them?"

"No! Sam, no! I mean...I know I'm not exactly a saint, but I wouldn't betray you or Dean, as much as I don't want to admit it."

"Do they know where we are?" asked Sam, dread turning his voice thin and strained.

"No. So long as her and Dean stay put, they'll be safe."

"And me?"

"You're not as desirable a target as Dean, but I'd still keep your eyes peeled. If they kidnap you then they know that they'd be able to use you as bait to lure Dean out of whatever hidey-hole you guys have found yourselves."

"Shit."

Turning away, Sam rubbed one hand over his face, his brain in turmoil. This wasn't good. This really  _really_ wasn't good. 

"What about supplies? We can't stay in there forever! And what about finding Cas' Grace?"

Gabriel ducked his head for a moment, and Sam felt dread sink like a cold, hard stone to the bottom of his stomach when he saw the look of complete helplessness on his face.

"I'm at a loss, Sam. I don't know what to do. I can't look for it. My Grace has been blocked, and now I'm stuck in a cell. I'm under constant surveillance. I can communicate with other angels, but only singularly and I've been cut off from angel radio. I'm stuck where I am."

"Wait, hold on a moment. You're stuck in a  _cell_?" 

"Michael's finally come to the end of his tether and doesn't think he can trust me. Don't know where he got the idea from."

"Can I...can I do anything?"

Gabriel paused, an agony of indecision playing across his face, his forehead creased and his teeth gnawing habitually on his lower lip. Finally, he looked back up to meet Sam's gaze.

"I think all you can do is keep looking for Cas' Grace from home. Have you found anything already?"

"Maybe. I looked up meteor showers from around the day when Faith came to us, but then I remembered that...well...I remembered that Cas would have lost his Grace long before that. So I checked for anything from about ten months ago, and there's one that nearly burned a forest down in North Carolina."

"You think it's Cas' Grace?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure. There are lots of signs that suggest it could be. I didn't start driving just because of Dean and Faith. And now I'm not sure I should at all."

Another tense pause ensued as Gabriel racked his brains for a solution. When he did finally face Sam, it was with a sudden decisiveness and determination: a more comforting combination than the undeniable fear and indecision Sam had seen a few short seconds before.

"OK, first thing's first. You're gonna have to leave big bro behind if you go on a hike to North Carolina. Michael's cronies would catch him in a heartbeat."

"More excuses? I'm barely keeping him off my back with this sudden increase in studiousness."

"Just tell him there's a job in North Carolina but it's too dangerous for him to leave. He'd never want something bad to happen to Faith, would he?"

"You know Dean. He'd never let me go off on a hunt alone."

"Well, sorry to burst his bubble, but he's gonna have to get used to it if he wants to keep that kid safe, which both you and I know he does."

"And me? Or am I just going out and hoping for the best?"

"I'll get Samandriel to watch over you. He won't lead the angels to you - I'll make sure he only contacts you through dreams like I do. That way he'll be able to warn you if they're getting close, or if they figure out what you're doing. And he can hop in if you ever need his help. So long as you ward that car of yours against angels as best you can, as well as trying to stop as little as possible, you should be fine."

"The odds don't seem to be very much in my favour."

"I'm sure Katniss said exactly the same thing, my friend," said Gabriel with a wink and a wry smile. Sam glowered at him in response.

"Are you sure Samandriel will be alright with this?"

"No, but someone's got to look over you, and right now he's the only angel ally I've got."

Sam hesitated before answering. There was still so much going on in his head. Dean and Faith were in more danger than they had ever been before. How were they going to survive without him? Dean wouldn't be able to leave the bunker to fetch supplies. Maybe he could call Charlie and ask if she could help them. Surely their old friend would help them out when she heard about the situation? Of course, she couldn't know the true story, in case she was found and her mind was read. It would be equally plausible if Dean were to say that he had pissed off some more angels and they were after him. As much as Sam hated lying to their friend, it had to be done in this case.

In addition, he was about to embark on a mission which would probably end with his or Samandriel's deaths...maybe both. What would happen to Dean when he found out his brother had not only lied to him about going on a hunting trip, but had also died on said hunting trip? It would be the most macabre and heartbreaking I-told-you-so in the history of I-told-you-so's. Shaking the painful thought from his head, he turned the plan over once more before sighing and nodding, looking up to meet Gabriel's gaze.

"I'll do what I can."

"That's my Sasquatch," said Gabriel, walking up to clap the human on the shoulder, his hand lingering perhaps a fraction longer than usual. "I'll catch up with you soon, then. Might be sooner than you think this time, though. I'm already bored of this place and I've only been here for half an hour."

"Good luck," Sam replied, a wan smile on his face which Gabriel returned. Sam could see that it too didn't quite meet his eyes. 

"You too, Sammy."

Taking a step back, Gabriel offered one last wry smile before clicking his fingers.

Sam awoke with a crick in his neck and a book stuck to his face.

***

So much pain. Anger. Sorrow. And...what's that emotion again? Need? Desperation? Yearning? Or was it all those things rolled into one? Well, whatever it is, it's messy. It's messy and dark and twisted and it bites whenever I go anywhere near it, like a cornered dog. Yet it's always there, and never more prominent than when I'm looking into  _his_ eyes. Don't get me wrong, it's always there, tamped down and shoved into a corner in a cage made of iron bars, smarting and itching like a paper cut. But it's only a minute fraction of the great, messy, rambling  _forest_ of emotion that constricts my lungs and tugs at my heart whenever I see  _him_.

I ignore it, of course. It means nothing to me. But I can't help being curious.

I never ask Naomi what it means, though. I just do my job.

_Kill him. Stab. Twist. Pull. Then kill It. No hesitation. No thoughts. Just action._

It always hurts the most after _their_ deaths. I'm not sure why.  _He_ is just the obstruction. The one I must kill in order to get to _It_. The infant. The Abomination of Heaven. The one who must die - whatever the cost.  _  
_

But that doesn't stop this strange emotion from churning in my breast and tugging at the scattered fragments of something right on the edge of my consciousness, trying to piece something back together - but what, I cannot say. But I don't let it bother me. It holds no significance to me, or to my duty. 

My sole purpose is to kill  _them_. 

I can feel it now as I stand before _him,_ scratching at my chest like a nest of thorns. He shouts at me to stop, to leave  _It_ alone, but _his_ words are irrelevant. The knife fits into my hand perfectly, cool and hard in my grip, focussing my mind onto this singular action. The blade judders as it pushes past the surface of  _his_ skin, dark blood pooling on my hand as I jerk it back. _He_ coughs and sways before me, but I ignore this and take _It_ from _his_ arms. With a quick flick of the wrist it is done. The bodies drop from my hands and it feels, strangely, like all my internal organs are turning to water. The forest is dark and all-consuming, tangling with my arteries and taking root in my heart. It hurts...but it is no different to anything I have dealt with before. I look away from the figures at my feet and turn to face Naomi. She is smiling. I don't return the sentiment.

When she speaks, her voice is like mercury, silvery and smooth, and I feel the forest recede a little at the sound. Something darker has opened within me - a gaping hole, full of shadows and unspeakable darkness - but this is normal too. I pay it no heed, as I always do. 

"Do you feel ready, Castiel?"

I nod. She smiles, and her smile is like ice. I do not return the sentiment. 

She turns and leaves me once more. I follow her with my eyes, watching her as she closes the door behind her. 

And then  _he_ is standing beside me with  _It_ in  _his_ arms once more, and the forest grows once more.

***

"No."

"Dean, I'm going."

"No, you're not. You can't."

"Yes I can, Dean. Look, if it makes you feel any better, I'll call Garth and ask if he'll come with."

"Oh yeah, because having  _Garth_ there on a hunting job with you makes me feel so much better."

Folding his arms, Sam gave Dean his best 'shut the fuck up you dickbrain' face before saying, "Come on, Dean. You know you can't go. It's too dangerous. You need to stay here with Faith."

"Do you honestly think you're in any less danger than I am? Sam, you're my brother. The angels know that you are as good a link to Faith as I am. They'll find you and torture her whereabouts out of you."

"But we can't just do nothing, Dean! People are dying!"

"Better 'people' than you, Sam."

Sam looked up at that, and the agony and desperation in Dean's eyes was intense enough for him to pause for a moment. 

"Please, man. You can't go. I've lost Bobby. I've lost mom and dad. I've lost Cas. I can't lose you too. I'm _not_ losing you too."

They stared at each other for a moment, silently battling it out until Sam finally looked down, sighing as he put up his hands in surrender. 

"Fine. Whatever. I won't go. But I...I just...oh whatever."

Dean watched as his brother left, suspicion and frustration overriding the momentary burst of relief that flooded his body. As soon as he heard the metallic slam of Sam's bedroom door, he turned away and headed back over to the crib where Faith was sleeping. Sitting down at the table next to her, he sighed and cushioned his chin on his arm as he rested on the smooth wooden surface, reaching out with one hand to gently stroke the rough pad of his thumb over his daughter's cheek, the tips of his fingers tangling in her wispy strands of black hair. 

He was silent for a while, content to just sit here, revelling in the gentle quiet and the feeling of his baby daughter's skin and hair under his fingertips. A soft smile touched the corners of his lips when she yawned and opened her eyes, gazing up at the large dark shape of his hand above her head for a second before turning her attention to him. She made no sound, simply staring with that same uncanny intelligence that had baffled him the very first time he had held her. Retracting his hand, he sat up straight, leaning over to gently lift her from the crib, cradling her in the crook of his arm in a way that he had grown so used to over the past month and a bit. 

"What am I going to do with your Uncle Sammy, eh?" 

Faith just stared.

"I don't know what's gotten into him recently. And I know he doesn't like me worrying about him, but I have to. He's my brother."

When he glanced back down at the child in his arms, he couldn't help a small huff of amusement escaping him as he saw her unwavering green gaze, still fixed upon him.

"Y'know, when you give me that look I sometimes think you know more than I do. To be honest, thinking about who your pops is, I wouldn't be surprised if you did."

Faith smiled.

Dean froze for a second, mouth frozen in a silent exclamation of astonishment before he let out a soft, incredulous laugh, excitement and pride filling him from head to toe. 

"'Ey, there it is. My little girl's first smile. Damn, you've got a pretty one. I'm gonna have to keep the guys away from you when you're older, I can already see that," he chuckled, his heart so warm in his chest that he thought he would explode with pride. 

As if in answer, the infant reached up to clasp his forefinger in his own, mirroring one of the first moments of contact Dean had had with her, all the time grinning at him with that wonderful, beautiful smile that felt like a light in his soul and a song in his heart. 

"My little angel. I'm so, so proud of you, y'know that? You've been through so much and yet after it all you're still smiling. I should take a leaf out of your book."

The tears pricking at the corners of his eyes heralded his next thoughts with poignant accuracy. Sighing and lowering his head, he squeezed his eyes closed as he attempted to swallow the sudden lump that had appeared in his throat.

"What I wouldn't give for your pops to be here. He'd be dancing like a monkey - but don't get your hopes up, 'cos I ain't dancing for ya," Dean said, the overwhelming joy and pride in his heart dulling the sudden ache brought on by the thought of Castiel. "Yeah, he'd be real proud of you."

As if sensing the solemnity of the moment, Faith waved her hand a little, her tiny fingers squeezing just a little tighter around Dean's finger, that joyous little smile never leaving her chubby face.

"Well, little one, I think we should celebrate. I mean, your first smile's a big deal. So what do you think? Pie? Nah, you don't have any teeth. Wouldn't be fair, would it? Can't have me celebrating and not you."

Faith grinned up at him, letting go of his finger to wave her little fists around and gurgle happily. 

"Hmm...let's think...how about a little dance? We've got a gramophone over there, and you seem to like it whenever Sammy puts it on. What do you think? Want to have a little celebratory dance? I reckon we might be able to get your grumpy-faced uncle to join in too if we turned up the music. Yeah? Sound good? Yeah. Let's do it."

***

Samandriel let out a long sigh of self-retribution. Why was he so good at getting himself into so many difficult situations? Why had he offered to help Anna and Balthazar find Dean? True, he was 'acting', which they probably already knew, but he couldn't act forever. Eventually they would get impatient and force Gabriel to tell them where he had sent the nephilim. They already knew the Winchesters had her. All it took was for one of them to step outside of that safezone they had found themselves, and the angels would be on them before they had taken more than a step outside the front door. 

And now Gabriel had asked him to do... _this_. Sam Winchester was looking for Castiel's Grace and Gabriel wanted him to be his resident guardian angel. It wasn't as if Samandriel disliked Sam Winchester - far from it - but he was beginning to feel a little out of his depth in many respects. If Anna or Balthazar, or maybe even Michael, were to find Sam, it was unlikely that Samandriel would be able to hold them off. They were powerful angels and archangels - older and better trained than himself, particularly Michael, and the thought of defending the near-hapless human against his older siblings was quite frankly terrifying. 

"Sam Winchester, I hope that wherever you are, you're not planning on moving anywhere any time soon," he muttered under his breath, sending out his consciousness once more in a fruitless attempt to sense the younger Winchester's presence. As he had expected, he felt nothing. 

The sound of flapping wings brought his attention back to the present. Lifting his head, he was unsurprised to find Anna sitting on his left and Balthazar on his right. 

"Samandriel," said Balthazar, his voice gritty and rough like gravel. There was something almost secretive about the way he spoke.

"Anna. Balthazar."

"You know what you have to do?"

"Yes."

There was a brief pause as the two angels allowed the gravity of Samandriel's task to settle upon his shoulders fully before Anna continued.

"You know that the Winchesters have the nephilim, thanks to our dear brother Gabriel?"

"Yes, Anna."

"And you also know that despite Michael's initiative to send Castiel to Naomi, no more information has been extracted from him."

"I - yes. Yes, I know."

"You must find Dean Winchester, Samandriel. I don't know what Naomi is doing with Castiel but whatever it is, it's not working. If we barter with Dean Winchester's life, I believe Castiel would be quite happy to oblige. Who knows - we might even find the nephilim in the process."

Samandriel swallowed with difficulty, his mouth suddenly feeling very dry.  

"Samandriel, you understand that this mission is of paramount importance to us, don't you? To our Father? Without Dean Winchester, Michael's efforts are fruitless. Hell will discover the nephilim before we do and all will be lost."

Nodding his head wordlessly, Samandriel felt a deep, gnawing unease settle in his stomach, churning and oppressive like the distant rumble of thunder. 

"I can see you're afraid, Samandriel," said Anna softly, and the gentleness in her tone threw Samandriel off guard for a moment. "Don't be. It's an important task, but Balthazar and I have complete faith in you."

The blatant lie sent shivers down Samandriel's spine, but he forced himself to look up and nod at his sister to indicate his understanding. 

"I'm not afraid. Just...apprehensive."

Anna smiled at that, reaching up to gently pat him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. We'll catch up with you in a few days to check on your progress."

Returning his gaze to his hands, resting between his knees and clasped tightly together, Samandriel nodded yet again. He was getting sick of doing that.

With one final smile from Anna and an assuring pat on the back from Balthazar, the two angels got to their feet. When the beating of their wings belied their departure, Samandriel allowed himself to let out a sigh of relief, the weight constricting his chest lightening just a fraction. This was going to be even more difficult than he had first interpreted.

Closing his eyes, he sent out his consciousness once more. He froze. A familiar mind brushed against his before dimming slightly, but still there, pulsing softly like a far off lantern, flickering in the darkness. Sitting rigidly upright and gripping the armrest of the park bench on which he was seated, he realised with a jolt that his mission had begun.

It was Sam Winchester. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, was it OK? I hope so, after such a long wait! Sorry about that, again, but I'm probably going to have to get this out now in that you shouldn't expect hugely regular updates from me. But please hang in there, because I honestly will update - it just takes a long time for me to a. find time and b. find the inspiration. Thanks for reading, and please feel free to leave a comment/kudos if you have the time! Thank you!


	10. Missions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez...I apologise for the huge break. I have no excuses other than a distinct lack of inspiration and lots of exams. Still, I hope this chapter is OK. It's definitely a bit of a filler chapter, but the exciting stuff's going to start in the next one so please bear with me. :) Thank you and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL NOR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS INCLUDED IN THIS STORY (except for Faith, Nariel and Miriel)
> 
> I CLAIM NO PROFIT FROM WRITING THIS

Sam knew he had to stop for a rest when his eyes were drifting closed of their own accord, resulting in a near-collision between the Impala and a wall. Slapping himself across the face once to chase away the encroaching exhaustion, he was relieved to see a signpost indicating that a motel was coming up on his left. Just as he was about to pull into the carpark, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he looked to his right to see a young man in the passenger seat. 

"Jesus...!" he yelped, wrenching the wheel to one side and skidding to a halt, reaching for his Angel blade secreted in an inside jacket pocket. 

"Sam, Sam!" the young man cried, eyes widening and reaching out to stay his arm. "It's me! It's Samandriel!"

Hesitating, Sam paused to get a proper look at the young man. A wave of relief washed over him as he recognised the angel. 

"Alfie. It's you."

Smiling and nodding, the young angel said, "Yes, it's me. How are you, Sam?"

"I'm...alright, thanks."

"You seem exhausted. You should get some rest."

"I am, I guess. I was just going to call in here," Sam said, gesturing to the motel sign just up ahead. 

"Good. That's good..." He paused, as if to consider his next words carefully. "And...Dean? How is your brother?"

Sam's mouth snapped closed, a frown pinching his forehead and thinning his lips. Samandriel cocked his head to one side in curiosity, saying softly, "You are worried about him."

With a wry chuckle, Sam glanced over at the angel. "Yeah, something like that."

Catching the angel's gaze once again, Sam saw only a gentle, open expression - eyes wide with curiosity and an eagerness to listen, something which Sam didn't realise he had needed until he saw it in Samandriel's face. Taking a deep breath, he talked.

"I just...I know what he's like. He was adamant that I wasn't going on this trip, but...I have to, Alfie. I have to, because it's the only way we're going to get Cas back...and it's the only way Faith's going to meet her father. In any normal circumstances he would come straight after me...but these aren't normal circumstances. I'm just hoping he has the common sense to stay where he is, where both he and Faith are going to be safe. Because if he takes one step outside...the angels will find him."

"I can understand your concern, Sam. My memories of Dean...they all seem to paint a similar picture of someone who...doesn't tend to listen to orders, not least those from his younger brother."

"Yep. You can say that again."

Smiling wryly, Samandriel said, "Well, he hasn't come out of hiding yet, or I would sense him. He's safe at the moment, Sam."

"Makes a change," Sam grumbled, glancing sideways at the angel and offering a half-hearted smile before returning his gaze to his hands, which he had folded upon his lap, twiddling his thumbs absently. 

With a sigh, Samandriel placed a hand upon Sam's shoulder, saying, "I cannot promise that everything will be alright, Sam. I cannot promise that Dean will be safe, nor you, nor Dean's infant child. I cannot promise that we will find Castiel's Grace and return it to him without losses. Because there will be losses. There will be hardships...although you are no stranger to such things, I know. All I can say is that I and Gabriel will do everything in our power to help you, because we want Castiel free just as much as you do, and we want his and Dean's child to be safe too. And we most definitely want you and Dean to be safe, because no matter how much trouble you cause...Gabriel said that you are family. Although he did say your brother is 'a tremendous dickwad'. His words, not mine."

At this, Sam could not help but burst into laughter. That was so Gabriel...of course he would say something like that. A bright yet slightly bewildered smile spread across Samandriel's face at the sudden outburst, but he seemed pleased with himself for being able to make the great Sam Winchester laugh. Finally, when Sam was able to look at the angel without bursting into a fit of sniggering again, he said, "Thanks, Alfie. Thank you. Really."

"It's no problem, Sam. Now...maybe you should rest. I will watch over you...though I would suggest you ward your room against angels."

Sam smiled tiredly and nodded in affirmation, saying again, "Thanks," before restarting the Impala and driving forward and into the car park of the motel. 

***

When Dean was awoken by the sound of Faith's cries it took him a moment to register the unusual nature of the situation. Faith, although sometimes a little grouchy, was generally a peaceful, happy infant. He liked to think she had inherited his good nature, though Sam had almost cried laughing at the notion and said that it was definitely Cas' influence. So being woken up at this godforsaken hour was exceptionally unusual. Groaning and scrambling out from under the sheets, he shuffled blindly to the end of the bed and reached out to gently lift the infant from her crib. He made the usual check. Diaper was clean. He sat with her on his shoulder for a good ten minutes, gently rubbing her back, yet there was nothing, so she didn't need burping. Was she hungry? She wasn't usually at this time of night. 

After over three quarters of an hour sitting up, bouncing the infant on his lap and murmuring softly to her in an attempt to calm her, he was almost ready to give up. His eyes felt like they were full of sandpaper and it seemed as if every word he uttered was interspersed by a yawn. Plus, his head was throbbing with a combination of fatigue and the incessant screams from the baby in his lap. 

"Come on, angel. Your daddy needs his four hours," he groaned for what seemed like the fiftieth time that night. "What's up, huh? You're gonna wake your Uncle Sammy if you keep on like that."

Speaking of Sam, where was the guy? He was a light sleeper, like Dean, so it was unusual to not have heard so much as a groan from the other side of the wall. Usually in situations like this when Faith was having trouble going back to sleep, Sam would come barging into the room with some snide comment about Dean's parenting skills before scooping the baby from Dean's arms and taking it upon himself to send her to sleep. Either that or he would just complain loudly from his room, sometimes rapping loudly on the wall if he was feeling particularly grumpy. 

So in short, Sam seemed to have fallen into an unusually deep sleep that night - that or he had wandered off somewhere. He did that sometimes.

Even so, something didn't feel quite right. Frowning, Dean paused for a moment, torn between the ceaseless wailing of the infant in his arms and the increasing desire to go and check on his brother. Finally, unwilling to leave his daughter alone in this state, he resorted to tucking her carefully into the crook of his arm and grabbing his gun from under his pillow before tiptoeing softly from the room and down the corridor. This was unnecessary at best - if Sam was in his room, then Faith's screaming would have woken him and alerted any potential adversaries long before his footsteps would have done. 

Upon reaching the door, he tightened his grip upon Faith, holding her closer to his chest, and yet ensuring that he didn't grip so tightly that it hurt her. Holding the gun out before his face, he paused to brace himself before lunging forward with a vicious kick to the door and bursting into the room.

It was empty. Not only that. The bed sheets were immaculate. Sam hadn't slept in it all night. Cursing under his breath, Dean moved forward into the room to check under his brother's bed. His bag of hunting supplies was gone. 

"Shit," he hissed, aiming a brutal kick at one of the metal legs of the bed. "Stupid fucking bastard."

Storming from his brother's bedroom, he made his way through the winding corridors of the bunker until he emerged into the main living space. Once again, there was no sign of Sam's presence. The kitchen was empty, the sofa was cold, and, when he checked, the keys to the Impala were gone. 

"DAMMIT SAM!" he yelled, a combination of fury and a building sense of terror tightening his throat. 

Stumbling backwards into a chair, he drew a hand slowly down his face, rubbing his eyes and attempting to suppress the rising urge to scream. He didn't want to terrify Faith out of her wits. She was too young to be traumatised. Well...untrue, but still. Dean would rather not be the cause of his daughter's lifelong psychological trauma.

It was then that he realised, almost with a shock, how quiet it had become. He could hear little more than his own fevered breathing and the frantic pounding of the blood in his ears. Faith's wailing had ceased. Instead, she gazed up at him, her bright green eyes wide and serious - that is, as serious as a baby could be. She didn't smile, nor gurgle. She didn't even move. She stayed perfectly still, watching her father with that uncanny intelligence that betrayed her divine parentage. It was almost as if she was trying to convey with her expression something that she was as yet unable to convey with her lips. 

And then it hit him. 

She had  _known._ She must have done. That was why she had been crying. She had been trying to wake Dean up because she had  _known_ that Sam was gone. Perhaps she had heard him leaving, or maybe she had just been unable to sense his presence, but either way, his tiny baby daughter had been trying to warn him of Sam's disappearance. 

Stroking a gentle finger over Faith's cheek, Dean released a shaky sigh, his hands trembling in an uncontrollable fashion. Moving his fingers up to run carefully through the dark, wispy strands of his daughter's hair, he attempted to slow his erratic breathing, closing his eyes and matching the motion of his lungs to the movements of his fingers. 

"Oh sweetie...what am I gonna do? Your Uncle Sammy's gone on a hunt without me...and there are angelic dickheads and demonic sons of bitches hiding round every corner ready to shank him at the first opportunity. It's stupid and reckless. What the fuck are we gonna do if he gets himself caught? I can't leave him, but then...I can't leave you either. And if I take one step out the front door I'll get nabbed by Michael's angels and you'll be left on your own."

He groaned and clawed a hand through his hair, his teeth absently pulling on the skin of his lower lip. Of course, Faith was completely silent, but still she did not move her gaze from her father's face. 

"What the fuck is he thinking? He knows it's dangerous out there - Michael's bound to target him...and...shit, how are we gonna get food? You need your baby milk and I need my pie! There won't be any pie left within a couple of days! We'll starve!"

Faith seemed to respond to this, letting out a small gurgle, and when Dean looked down he saw, to his chagrin, that she was smiling. 

"Hey hey, angel, this ain't the time to be smiling. Your uncle's in serious danger. And he's left his brother and niece in a right mess. We're gonna run out of food...and diapers! Shit, you need more diapers."

Faith seemed to get the memo, her lips slowly moving back into a sombre straight line. Well, as sombre as a baby could be. 

Meanwhile, Dean was trying and failing to calm his already erratic heartbeat. The sudden fear for his brother and daughter gripped his throat like a terrible claw, squeezing tighter and tighter. His breathing became harsh and almost spasmodic as he shut his eyes, cradling Faith close to his chest whilst he attempted to keep the imminent tears at bay. For a brief, reckless moment he wondered how long Sam had been gone, and therefore how far he had travelled. Would he be able to catch up with him? But he quickly quelled these thoughts, furious at his own thoughtlessness. This wasn't just about him and Sam anymore. He had a baby daughter to look after too and he'd be damned if he was going to put her in any kind of danger. So no, he had to stay here. Maybe he could call Garth and explain the situation. Or Charlie. Better to put Faith back to bed, call whoever would pick up and wait it out until they got here. 

Getting to his feet and taking a deep breath, he made his way over to the crib they kept in the main living space and tucked Faith in, giving her a soft kiss upon the forehead. Moving back, he offered a watery smile before muttering, "Let's hope your uncle doesn't get into too much trouble, eh?"

***

"Anna!"

Anna looked up from her paperwork with a start to see Balthazar standing in the doorway, his eyes shining with excitement. 

"What is it, Balthazar?"

"It's the Winchesters!"

This caught her attention. Jerking to her feet, Anna hurried around the desk to stand before the other angel.

"Have you found Dean? Or the child?"

"No, unfortunately not. It's the other one. Sam. He's come out of hiding."

Disappointment and frustration briefly flashed across the other angel's face when an idea seemed to strike. A slow smile curled the corners of her lips. 

"That's good. I mean - one Winchester is better than no Winchesters at all."

"And of course Samandriel is with him, as we suspected. He's not completely unprotected."

"Samandriel is a child. We can deal with him."

"I wouldn't underestimate him. He is one of Gabriel's accomplices. Gabriel wouldn't appoint just any old angel to help with his cause."

"And look at what's happened to Gabriel. Supposedly one of God's most powerful archangels and yet we have him in our cells. No, Samandriel will be a piece of cake."

"If you say so," said Balthazar, poorly concealing the doubt in his voice. However, it was ignored by his sister. 

"Where is he?" 

"Near the eastern border of Kansas and still going. He's been travelling for hours. Bound to stop soon."

"It doesn't matter if he stops or not. This is good, Balthazar. Sam Winchester is no nephilim but he's Dean's brother. Everyone in Heaven and Hell knows the risks those idiots will take for each other. If it were to get to Dean that we had his brother...we could lure him out."

"Dean's a father now. Are you sure his paternal instincts won't override his fraternal ones?"

"Of course we can't be sure. But we have to try. We'll find a way to utilise Sam to our advantage."

Balthazar nodded. "And I suppose, what with Naomi's progress with Castiel, we'd easily be able to combine our efforts. If we manage to trap Sam, two of the people he cares for most in the world will be in Heaven's grasp."

Anna smiled and nodded, patting her brother on the shoulder before drawing away, her expression suddenly serious.

"Come on. We need to hurry. I don't want to get down to Kansas only to find those stinking demons have already taken him."

***

The Soldier was poised, ready, waiting to strike. The forest was long gone - it had withered away long ago, after they had stopped calling him...calling him what? But then, of course, the Soldier didn't need to ask those questions. It no longer mattered what they used to call him. He was the Soldier, the one who was destined to destroy the Abomination and its Protector. 

He didn't need a name. Only his duty. 

Clutching the cool hilt of his Angel blade in the palm of his hand, he remained still as the Sergeant moved past, her eyes bright with pride and excitement. She knew he was ready, and he could almost taste freedom. Soon his destiny would come to fruition and he would achieve the goal he had been training for for as long as he could remember. He would be recognised as the great warrior he was. The loyal follower. The Destroyer of the Abomination of Heaven.

The Sergeant didn't say a word as she stopped before him, a catlike smile upon her face. With a nod, she placed one hand upon his shoulder, her gaze locked with his. He stood, unmoving, waiting for his next command. Just as the perfect soldier should.

She seemed to approve, her smile broadening as she said with a gravity that pierced right to the very core, "You are ready, soldier. Prepare yourself. Your mission will be starting soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So whaddaya think? :) I hope it wasn't too crappy and again, I apologise so much for the lack of updates. I can't promise that they'll be any more regular but I'll do my best to get them uploaded asap! Thank you for reading, and please feel free to leave a comment/kudos if you liked it. :)


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